


To Know My Enemy

by menel



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Depowered, Developing Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:05:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Scott and Logan once struck a deal in order to better facilitate their working relationship? What if that deal grew more complicated over time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Negotiation is an Ongoing Process

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Night for a Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/123290) by [cyndrarae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae). 



> This fic has got a bit of history behind it. It's actually my _first_ X-Men fic that I began writing about two and a half years ago. I wasn't brave enough to post it back then, so it's languished in my hard drive. I confess that it isn't even finished (and it's always dangerous releasing a WIP), but I'm hoping that finally getting it out in the world might give me some ideas on how to finish it. (That means readers can give me ideas. *hint, hint*) 
> 
> It's also inspired by, and is sort of a pseudo sequel, to Cyndrarae's excellent "Night for a Day." I totally recommend that you read that story first since the premise of this entire fic is based on Cyndrarae's original idea. (And if you're reading this Cyn, I'm so sorry that the fic is not yet done! But thank you for all your input and encouragement. It hasn't been forgotten.) 
> 
> Finally, many thanks to MetaAllu for handholding and beta reading the first two chapters. You're so awesome. :)

When Scott thought about it later, what shocked him about the whole encounter was not that Logan had held him to the deal (Logan was a man of his word), or that Logan had bent him over his desk and poured out all of his anger, his frustration and his desire into the act, punishing and pleasuring them both at the same time. No, what had really shocked Scott was what had happened afterwards, when Logan had led him to his bed and gently nudged him onto it until Scott had fallen on his back. Then Logan had stripped off his own clothes before setting to work on Scott’s pants, then his cardigan and his shirt, leaving Scott’s clothes in a pile beside the bed. With both of them naked, Logan kneeling in between his spread legs, Scott had never felt more vulnerable or exposed in his life. In front of Wolverine, no less. 

But that’s when things really went off-script – if they had been following any kind of script in the first place – because Scott had expected to be taken roughly again. Instead, Logan began leisurely exploring his body, beginning with Scott’s neck before moving downwards, mapping every line and curve as though he were committing it to memory. Scott gripped the bed sheets tightly, his hands balled into fists by his sides. He hated the little noises that he was making, the quiet moans and reactions that he suspected Logan was filing away for future reference, for future ammunition against him. He was almost relieved when Logan turned him over so he could bury his face in the pillow and muffle those sounds, but his body and his scent betrayed him. He was growing hard again and the bed sheets were providing too little friction. He could only imagine what sort of pheromones he was releasing. He knew without a doubt that Logan knew that he was aroused.

Lying face down on the bed, he was certain now that Logan would take him. And he did. There were no invading fingers this time since Scott was still stretched and slick from their previous encounter, only the slow, agonizing slide of Logan filling him. In spite of himself Scott arched back into the motion, rising on his hands and knees to meet Logan with his own force so that his back was firmly against Logan’s chest. He earned a satisfied grunt from the other man and a firm grip on his hip to steady him. Logan’s breath was hot on his already heated skin and then he felt teeth gently nipping him in the juncture where neck met shoulder. When Logan was fully inside him, he stilled, and Scott silently admired the other man’s control. Logan continued his nipping and licking, now across Scott’s right shoulder and down his shoulder blade. Scott had already adjusted to the fullness of Logan inside him, and he had had enough of that teasing mouth. He moved forward and then drove back, surprising Logan with the thrust. Sharp canines bit down on his shoulder, almost hard enough to draw blood at the same time that Logan growled deep in his throat. He lifted himself off Scott’s back and Scott felt big, warm hands gripping his hips tightly. There would be bruises there in the morning. But Scott couldn’t care about that right now, not when Logan began thrusting deeply and evenly inside him. It was different this time. Whereas before he had tried to control his body’s impulses as Logan had pounded into him, not wanting to give Logan the satisfaction of his pleasure (even though he had failed rather spectacularly), this time he matched Logan’s rhythm. 

“Touch me, dammit,” he hissed, his cock aching from neglect. 

“Not yet,” Logan ground out.

It seemed that even the mighty Wolverine had limits on his stamina, as this round was shorter than the first. Scott knew the other man was close when Logan’s rhythm grew erratic, but still Logan wouldn’t touch him. He was on the verge of touching himself when Logan’s right hand closed over his own, making Scott wonder if Logan didn’t have his own brand of telepathy. 

“Don’t you fucking come,” Logan whispered in his ear just before he spilled himself into Scott. 

Scott was trembling, his frame taut with unreleased tension. Above him, could feel Logan riding the high of his orgasm, and before he could register what was happening, Logan was pushing him back down onto the bed and turning him over onto his back. Scott collapsed easily, and then a mouth was on him, sucking him hungrily and he instinctively bucked into the wet heat. Those large hands were on his hips again, pinning him down on the bed as Logan’s mouth continued to work him over. Scott was in no position to complain about Logan’s lack of stamina since he wasn’t going to last either. His world was red except for the white he saw when he climaxed and he shut his eyes as he felt that climax approach. He shuddered his release into Logan’s waiting mouth with a force that should have made the other man gag but Logan drank him down, suckling him until Scott was completely spent and boneless on the bed. Logan then proceeded to tongue-bathe him, the stubble on his face scratching against Scott’s thighs. Scott was too blissed out to care as Logan continued his progress up Scott’s body, settling on top of him so that Logan’s chin rested on his folded hands on top of Scott’s chest. 

It had been many years since Scott had felt the weight of a man on top of him. Logan was heavy and Scott suspected that Logan wasn’t resting his complete weight on him; otherwise that adamantium frame might have crushed him. Without quite realizing it, his right hand had come to rest on Logan’s back, absently scratching one of Logan’s shoulder blades. When Logan responded with what could only be described as a growl of contentment, Scott stopped, uncertain of what he was doing. He could feel Logan’s heated gaze on him but he refused to look down. It’s not like Logan could see his eyes anyway. After a few moments, Logan rolled off of him and sprawled beside him on the bed. Scott also rolled onto his side, his back to Logan. He wanted to sleep and he hoped that Logan was done with him for the night, although by the conditions of their agreement, Logan could do what he pleased for the whole night. Dusk ‘til dawn. Hadn’t that been the deal? 

He slipped off his glasses, folded them and placed them on top of the bedside table. Then he lifted himself on one elbow as he slid open the drawer of the bedside table, reaching for the precise spot where he knew his sleep goggles lay. He sat up to put them on, aware the entire time that Logan was watching him although the man hadn’t moved an inch. When Scott settled back down on the bed, it was again on his side, his right arm now under his pillow. Whatever message he was trying to send clearly didn’t reach Logan because the other man simply spooned behind him, putting an arm around Scott’s waist to draw him closer until he felt Logan’s breath on the nape of his neck. Surprisingly, Scott didn’t tense in that unexpected embrace. Perhaps he was too tired to do so. He drifted off to sleep with one word in his mind: tenderness. It was a word that he had never associated with Wolverine.

* * * * *

When Scott woke the following morning, he was alone. The covers were drawn up around him, although he hardly remembered using them the night before. That was when the memory of what he had done with Logan hit him and he bolted upright. Bad idea. He wanted to attribute everything to a very vivid dream except the soreness that greeted him when he moved proved to be evidence to the contrary. He grimaced as he sat at the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair. Of all the stupid things he’d done in his life, this seemed pretty close to the top. One-night stands weren’t exactly his forte, and he wasn’t even sure that this thing with Logan qualified as one. Scott shook his head. It didn’t matter. He would deal with Logan when he saw him.

Scott wasn’t intentionally avoiding Logan and neither did he think that Logan was doing the same, but the two of them didn’t see each other until the scheduled training session in the Danger Room late in the afternoon with the rest of the team. There was nothing outwardly different about Logan and Scott wanted to think that he too was behaving normally. That illusion was shattered when the training session began because Logan was even more belligerent than usual, exasperating not only Scott but also the usually implacable Ororo. 

“Logan!” Ororo snapped after the fourth time the simulation failed due to one of Logan’s ‘improvisations.’ “Surely even you can see the benefits of Scott’s strategy.”

Logan leaned against the wall of the Danger Room, producing a cigar from god-knows-where and snipping the end off with one of his claws. 

“You can’t smoke that in here.” Scott’s admonition was sharp and automatic. 

Logan gave him a feral grin but his attention quickly returned to Storm whose voice and features had become the perfect embodiment of her name. She was standing beside Scott, hands on her hips and she looked like she might strike him with lightning right in the Danger Room. 

“We’re a team,” Storm was saying, a line that Scott had often heard himself repeating to their wayward member. “You can’t just think about yourself out there anymore. You may not realize it, but your actions put others at risk.” Storm dropped her voice. “Not everyone on the team has your experience.” 

Storm’s last statement provoked a reaction from Wolverine who pushed himself off the wall, hands clenched at his sides, his cigar forgotten. Everyone present knew that she had been referring to Bobby and Marie, the two newest and youngest members of the team. Scott glanced in their direction. Bobby looked uncertain and Marie only had eyes for Logan. She knew (just as Scott knew) that Logan would never willfully put her in any danger but there was a chance that he might inadvertently do precisely that in the field. And if that ever happened, Logan would never forgive himself. 

Scott took this moment to intervene. He placed a hand on Ororo’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked at him, an apology in her eyes. Scott gave her a faint smile, an assurance that everything was all right. It was a welcome break, Scott thought, to have someone else with authority give Logan a tongue-lashing. 

“We’ve had enough for one day,” he told the others. He motioned to Henry who was in the control room to power down the simulation. Henry nodded and the lights in the Danger Room returned to their usual state.

“Bobby,” he said, turning to the young man. “You still need to fine tune your control. We’ll do some one-on-one exercises tomorrow.” Bobby nodded in reply. “And Marie,” Scott continued, “a little more hand-to-hand training with Logan would be a good idea.” 

Scott shot Logan an inquiring look for once not expecting any kind of resistance, not if it was for Marie’s benefit. Logan nodded gruffly, his face still marked by a scowl from Storm’s previous comment. Finally, he turned to face Kurt, who was standing a little distance away from the rest of the group, observing them quietly with his pensive eyes. 

“Nice work today . . . Nightcrawler,” Scott told him. Those yellow eyes lit up and Kurt nodded almost shyly in acknowledgement.

“Tomorrow, same time,” were Scott’s final words, drawing the training session to a close. He remained where he was as this latest incarnation of the X-Men filed out of the Danger Room and headed for the showers. The original five had gone through their growing pains, but the harmony and efficiency that that team had achieved made Scott wonder if he’d ever regain that precious dynamic. He was pondering this as Logan fell into step beside him in the hallway, but he crinkled his nose when the other man finally lit his cigar. Smoking wasn’t allowed anywhere in the lower levels, but better Logan smoked in the hallway than in the Danger Room. 

“You know that’s not allowed out here either,” Scott couldn’t help but say, the usual disapproval seeping into his tone. Beside him, he could already feel Logan smirking. 

Instead of the smart comeback that usually fell so easily from Logan’s lips, he merely said, “You didn’t expect me to follow your orders every day, did you?” 

Scott stopped in surprise. Actually, he’d been trying very hard not to think of that possibility, trying to convince himself that the deal with Logan had been a one-time affair. Now Logan was confirming otherwise. 

Logan stopped as well and turned to face him, purposely leaning in as he did so. He smelled of sweat and smoke, much like he did the night before and Scott willed his body not to react. Sex and fighting were far too similar, especially where Logan was concerned. Logan was inhaling his scent, and Scott wondered if the other man was thinking the same thing. The answer appeared to be ‘yes’ when that feral grin spread over Logan’s face and he dropped his voice even though there was no one else in the hallway. 

“Ya’d hardly be able to keep up with me, One-Eye,” Logan half-taunted. “And besides,” he added, straightening up. “We can’t have our Fearless Leader too tired or too sore to go on a mission.” 

With those parting words, Logan puffed on his cigar and swaggered down the hallway, leaving Scott too stunned to say anything in reply.

* * * * *

Logan was a handful in training for the rest of the week but when the time came to go on a mission, he followed Scott’s orders to the letter. His docility left the other team members flabbergasted.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Ororo murmured as she sat in the co-pilot’s seat of the Blackbird on the way back to Westchester. 

Scott fought to contain his smile and managed to casually shrug instead. “Logan’s unpredictable,” he replied. He gave her a sidelong glance. “I thought you’d be pleased in his change in attitude.” 

“I am.” 

Ororo hesitated and looked behind them where Logan was strapped into his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he grimaced. Clearly, flying did not agree with Wolverine. He was seated directly behind Scott and if his mutant ability had been optic blasts he would’ve blown a hole through Scott’s head the moment the Blackbird had taken off. Ororo looked back at their field leader. “Do you think he’s ill?” she asked, rephrasing her previous question. 

Scott almost laughed out loud at the suggestion. He’d always thought that Logan had a few screws loose. It probably came with the territory when the military fucked with your memories. “Honestly, no,” he said, unable to keep the humor out of his voice. “But you can always have Henry check him out,” he added. “That is, if you can get him down to the med lab.” 

_But Henry didn’t possess Jean’s particular charms_ , was the thought that crossed his mind that he didn’t say aloud. He was surprised that the thought of Logan and Jean in the same sentence didn’t bring up all the usual feelings of anger and jealousy. He was wondering what that meant when he realized that Ororo was looking at him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Logan’s not the only one behaving strangely.” 

Scott aimed for mock offense. “Are you saying that I can’t be cheerful?” 

“Cheerful isn’t in your vocabulary, Cyclops,” Storm deadpanned back. 

This time Scott didn’t bother to contain his smile as he dipped the Blackbird, hearing the expected growl behind him.

* * * * *

That night Scott was slammed against the wall of his room and greeted with a bruising kiss before the door even had a chance to close. They had arrived in Westchester long after the students had gone to bed, except for the one or two students that didn’t sleep at all. Scott knew that the Professor was still awake. He had been mentally summoned as soon as the Blackbird was secure in the hangar. He preferred to perform the post-flight checks himself, but Storm had shooed him away likely knowing that the Professor was waiting for him. Scott didn’t feel too badly about leaving her when Henry appeared. It was just like Blue to turn up when help was needed. As he had walked out of the hangar, he had felt Logan’s eyes boring into his back and he suppressed the shiver of anticipation that threatened to go through him at the thought of what Logan might have in store.

“The debrief could’ve waited until morning,” Logan growled now, pinning Scott against the wall as he nuzzled Scott’s neck. 

Scott felt helpless against the full-body assault of Wolverine and he had his hands on Logan’s wide shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep the other man at bay. “No, it couldn’t,” he breathed as Logan palmed him through the leather of his uniform. They were both still in uniform. 

“Yeah, One-Eye,” Logan insisted. “It really could’ve.” He squeezed Scott’s hardening cock tighter, almost viciously, and Scott could feel tears of arousal and frustration wetting his visor. “I think you were trying ta get out of our deal,” Logan whispered, snaking a trail up Scott’s neck with his tongue until he was nipping Scott’s earlobe. “You wasted half the night flying us back and then you wasted more of it holed up in Chuck’s study. That sort of behavior deserves punishment. Wouldn’t you agree, Cyclops?” Logan leaned back, his hand easing the pressure it had exerted on Scott’s cock, but still stroking him through his uniform. 

Scott was pissed. And aroused. Somewhere along the line the phrase, ‘Fight or fuck’ had become quite literal with Wolverine, and the urge to deck the arrogant man or to be thrown down by him onto the bed and fucked through the mattress was almost too much to bear. Scott settled for somewhere in between, pushing Logan back with a force that took the other man by surprise. 

“I wasn’t trying to get out of anything,” he seethed, pushing himself off the wall and stalking towards Logan. “The debrief couldn’t wait and the Professor knew that.” He was about to say more, but stopped abruptly when he saw that Logan was watching him carefully, his arms crossed in front of his chest. The room was dark except for the moonlight that streamed in through the two large windows, lighting Logan’s face and the strange expression Scott saw there. Scott’s anger bled away and he stood with his hands at his sides, his composure returning to him. When Logan didn’t say anything for several long seconds, Scott broke the silence. “We gonna get on with this or what?” he asked defiantly, steeling himself for whatever punishment Wolverine was going to dole out.

“You’re hiding something,” Logan said flatly. “Something about the mission we did. There’s more to it that you’re not telling the team.” 

Scott was stunned that Logan had guessed this correctly, but outwardly he remained impassive. The cool mask of Cyclops rarely faltered. 

“I thought this was about sex,” he said, just as flatly. 

Scott knew that his reply was a simple evasive tactic, but he was also counting on the fact that Wolverine could be quite single-minded when given the proper incentive. Sex seemed like the proper incentive. For a while he thought he had been mistaken as their standoff continued, but it was Logan who backed down first. (Logan was just full of surprises tonight.) 

“It is,” Logan said quietly, reaching out and taking Scott’s hand. For the second time in as many weeks, Scott found himself being led to his own bed by Wolverine.

This time Logan sucked him first before he fucked him. If Scott had been expecting a quick, hard fuck as part of his punishment, he was completely wrong on that score. If anything, Logan was even gentler than he had been the first night, taking the time to prepare him before fucking him with long, languid strokes, angling his thrusts just right so that he hit Scott’s prostate every time. It didn’t take Scott long to figure out what his punishment was as Logan brought him to the brink of release time and time again before pulling Scott away from the edge. He wouldn’t let Scott come until he was satisfied and Scott realized with a growing horror that Logan could probably keep this up all night. 

“Please,” he said when Logan had prevented his climax for the sixth time. He hardly recognized that strangled sound as his own voice.

“Say something?” Logan asked casually, continuing those maddeningly long, measured strokes. 

“Please,” Scott said louder. 

“Please what?” Logan sounded miffed. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Scott nearly screamed. His whole body was trembling with unreleased tension and his hair hung over his forehand, the rivulets of sweat running down his visor and making his world hazy. He was on his hands and knees, but pretty soon he wouldn’t be able to support his own weight. 

“All ya had to do was ask nicely,” Logan said, reaching over and finally taking Scott’s cock in his hand. All it took was a few quick strokes before Scott came, the force of his orgasm ripping through him in waves and he collapsed on the bed, taking Logan with him. Logan was still buried to the hilt inside him, as long and hard as the proverbial ‘rod up his ass’ jokes that Logan liked to crack about his uptight character. Only Logan was doing a different kind of teasing tonight.

Scott lay panting on the bed, dimly wondering why Logan wasn’t finishing himself off. He felt Logan withdraw and in the afterglow of sex, curiosity got the better of him and he rolled over so that he could see the other man. Logan was certainly a sight to behold, sitting back on his heels, cock in hand and continuing those long, even strokes. His gaze was intense. It was a look Scott often saw when they were in combat but this time it was directed solely at him, making him thankful that he was wearing his impenetrable visor. Scott’s eyes drifted down the other man’s body, taking in the broad chest and firm muscles, finally resting on the prize in Logan’s hand. Logan had fucked him three times (not that he was counting or anything) but this was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at Logan’s cock and what an impressive piece of equipment it was. Uncertain if Logan would permit it, Scott reached out and placed his hand over Logan’s. Logan’s hand immediately stilled beneath his, and Scott thought he could feel the pulsing of Logan’s cock through it. He was sitting up now, legs drawn up and spread on either side of Logan. He looked up at the other man, his unasked question hanging in the air between them. Logan removed his hand, placing it on Scott’s hip as he thrust once into Scott’s touch. Scott took that to be permission and he began exploring Logan’s cock. He ran his fingers along the underside and then swirled his thumb around the tip, pressing in between the slit. Logan was not as long as him, but he was much thicker and Scott wondered what it would be like to taste him, to have his mouth stuffed full of that throbbing flesh. The thought distracted him until Logan was growling low in his throat. 

“Get on with it, Cyke.”

Scott grinned. It was the smirk that he knew was likely to earn him a punch in the gut from the other man and if he didn’t get on with it, this handjob might end with the same outcome. Scott stopped his explorations and began the same long, smooth motion that Logan had used on himself. He picked up the pace when he felt Logan thrusting steadily into his hand. Logan’s breathing was erratic, the fingers on Scott’s hip digging fiercely into his skin. Just when the other man was on the verge of coming, a hand gripped him behind the head and pulled him into a bruising kiss so that he swallowed the sound of Logan’s cry. Scott felt the sticky wetness over his hand at the same time that Logan’s tongue invaded his mouth and his senses went into overdrive. 

_This shouldn’t be part of the deal_ , his mind screamed, but his body appeared to have no objections as his own hands wrapped themselves around Logan’s waist and molded them together, Logan’s softening cock now leaking the last of its come against his stomach. The kiss continued and Scott felt like Logan was exploring his mouth, imprinting his taste in the same way that Logan had mapped his body on that first night. And Scott let him because Logan tasted so damn good and he was a fantastic kisser to boot, not that Scott was a slouch in that category either. 

“Please don’t do that,” Scott whispered when the kiss ended and his chin rested on Logan’s broad shoulder. Logan was sucking on the side of his neck, teeth threatening to break his skin. He suspected he might have to wear a high-collared shirt the next day. 

“Don’t do what?” Logan rumbled, and by god the man sounded content. 

“No kissing,” Scott said firmly. 

Logan jerked away and his eyes flashed, but he still held Scott loosely in his arms. “I call the shots at night, Cyclops,” he warned. “That’s the deal.” 

Scott shook his head. “No kissing,” he repeated. “I’ll blow you, I’ll do whatever else you want, but not that. That’s not about sex.” 

Logan’s face grew hard, his jaw set. “Kissing is your deal-breaker, Cyke?” 

Scott’s expression was equally determined when he nodded his head. “Yes,” he said, putting all the force and command of Cyclops into the single word. 

Logan’s eyes were traveling over his face, trying in vain to read him. Scott could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Logan was weighing his value in the field against not just having Scott at night, but perhaps more importantly, whether professionalism during the day translated into something more personal at night. When the deal had originally been struck in the heat of another fight, Scott had taken it literally – a fight in exchange for a fuck (or two or three). Now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe Scott was over thinking things, as he had a tendency to do. Maybe kissing didn’t mean anything to Wolverine; at least, maybe it didn’t mean the same thing that it meant to him. 

Logan was nodding slowly, the hand that had held the back of Scott’s head now cradled his neck while Logan ran his thumb over Scott’s bottom lip absently. “Fine,” he agreed, his voice still hard. “No kissing.” He pressed down on the lip and Scott opened his mouth automatically. Logan pushed his thumb inside and Scott sucked on it, swirling his tongue around the digit as he watched Logan’s pupils blow wide. 

“Lie back,” Logan ordered, and Scott did as he was told. 

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

That second night led to a third and a fourth, the days turning into weeks and the weeks turning into months and before Scott knew it, the deal had been in effect for three whole months. Logan’s participation in the team was near flawless and he certainly couldn’t argue with the regular (if not raunchy) sex. The deal evolved as time went on, with unwritten sub clauses being added, but they never encountered the sort of impasse Scott had felt about kissing. Indeed, Scott had learned a number of important things about Logan, the foremost being that despite his renowned unpredictability and unreliability, Logan was very much a creature of habit and it didn’t take long for Scott to see a pattern emerging in their encounters.

In the beginning, the deal only mattered during days when there were missions. In particular, on missions in which Scott and Logan had to work together as a team. The training sessions remained a battleground and if the other members of the team wondered why Scott and Logan continued to disagree during training but made an impressive pair in the field, no one dared to ask. It was at the end of the third week that Scott began to notice a shift in their dynamics in training as well. Logan was less combative, and when the first training session passed without an incident from the other man, Scott knew to expect him that night. Gradually, the tension between them eased in the training sessions as well and by the middle of the second month any disagreement they had seemed to be perfunctory, a coded signal to let Scott know that Logan wouldn’t be paying him a visit. At that point, Logan was spending around five nights a week in Scott’s bedroom. Logan _always_ came to Scott’s bedroom and he always left soundlessly before dawn. He never tried to kiss Scott again.

It was at the start of the third month that things got really interesting; for better or worse, Scott wasn’t certain. All he knew was the deal was growing more and more complicated and Logan remained unperturbed by these changes, which was unsurprising given that he was the instigator of said changes. Since one of their unwritten clauses since the night of ‘the kiss’ was that they never spoke about the deal itself, Scott was in a conundrum and did his best to go with the flow, which was no easy task for a control freak. The subtle shifts began simply enough. Logan began seeking Scott out a little earlier instead of ambushing him in the bedroom. Usually, Scott was bogged down by paperwork, whether it was marking papers or tests, lesson planning or some other administrative-related duty for the school. Scott preferred to do paperwork on his desk in his bedroom; occasionally, he would stay behind and use an unoccupied classroom at the end of the day. He never locked the doors wherever he was and Logan would slip inside and wait for Scott to finish. If he was working in his room, Logan would stretch himself on the window seat of one of the large bay windows, light a cigar and begin reading one of the magazines he often brought, usually something about hunting, guns or ammo.

The first time this happened Scott had done a double take since that window seat had also been Jean’s favorite, but there was no way Logan could have known that (could he?). No one had used it since she’d died and ‘conflicted’ didn’t even begin to describe what it felt like seeing Logan in that seat instead of Jean. Scott could barely wrap his head around it but when he opened his mouth to call Logan out, he found himself complaining about the cigar smoke instead. In fact, he always complained about the cigars but since he never phrased his complaints as an order, Logan merely ignored him and puffed away, blowing the smoke out of the open window. Scott didn’t think about what it meant that he never actually told Logan to stop smoking or that he never told Logan that window seat had been Jean’s favorite, but he suspected that it had something to do with the fact that cigar smoke was part of what made Logan _Logan_ , just like Canadian beer, denim, dog tags, his healing factor and adamantium. And if his unconscious refused to acknowledge a comparison between Logan and Jean, then that was the business of his unconscious. 

If Scott wasn’t done with his paperwork by 6:00pm (6:30pm at the absolute latest), Logan would rise from the window seat, stub out what was left of his cigar on his palm (if it wasn’t already finished), walk over to Scott’s desk, take him by the hand (during which Scott would make a feeble protest that he still had too much to do) and lead him to bed. On these days they would sometimes miss dinner, too sex sated to make the effort to dress and head downstairs. Later in the night they would have to fend for themselves with heated leftovers. Scott also learned during this time that Logan was something of a sandwich guru, making virtually anything tasty from what he found in the fridge. Honestly, who knew? 

Scott told himself that eating dinner alone with Logan late at night was a necessity. _Eating_ was a necessity. The fact that he was also spending time with Logan out of the bedroom and in a non-professional manner was something that he tried to ignore. And he certainly didn’t think about the fact that he was growing used to Logan’s company; that he was starting to find the other man comfortable and familiar. Companionable was probably the word he would’ve used to describe their evolving interaction, if, y’know, he ever actually thought about it. Besides, after dinner they’d polish off their beers and head back upstairs for another round of sex, this time slow and languorous and that’s what this was _really_ about. 

Scott began to have doubts again when later in the month, after a particularly satisfying round of sex Logan got up and began to dress. Scott eyed him from where he was lying on his back, vaguely disappointed that Logan was calling it quits early. (It was still _very_ early.) When Logan had zipped up his jeans, he picked up Scott’s discarded clothes and threw them at him, hitting Scott squarely in the face. Scott sputtered. 

“Get dressed.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me. Get dressed.” 

“Why?” 

By now Logan was fully clothed, hands on his hips. “Who’s in charge at night, Cyclops?” 

Rather than give the arrogant man the benefit of a verbal answer, Scott petulantly got off the bed and slowly began to dress. He didn’t look at Logan the entire time he put on his clothes, but he could feel the other man watching his every move. That’s another thing he’d learned about Logan but had secretly always suspected. The guy was a total voyeur. Scott could make him hard with a simple strip show, and once upon a time he’d had a lot of practice stripping. 

“Is this a new game, Wolverine?” he finally asked when he was done.

“Let’s go,” was Logan’s answer as he headed for the door. 

Scott remained motionless. 

When Logan realized that Scott hadn’t moved, he stopped, his hand on the doorknob and looked at him. “I said, let’s go,” he repeated. 

“Where are we going?” Scott asked carefully. 

“It’s a surprise,” Logan answered. 

Very slowly Scott walked around the bed towards the door until he was standing in front of Logan. He was about to break one of their unwritten rules but Logan’s behavior was making him uneasy. “Uh, listen,” he said, biting his bottom lip before glancing up at the other man. “What we do here,” he began, vaguely gesturing towards the bed. “It probably shouldn’t leave this room.” 

Logan let out an exaggerated sigh, more theatrical than Scott had thought him capable of. “Ya can relax, One-Eye. I ain’t gonna molest you in public. I have a reputation, too.” Logan opened the door and shot him a pointed look, waiting for Scott to move. 

Scott held his ground a moment longer, matching Logan’s pointed look even though the other man couldn’t see behind the ruby quartz lenses. Then he let out a theatrical sigh of his own and walked out the door.

* * * * *

Logan’s ‘surprise’ turned out to be so pedestrian that Scott almost laughed at the domesticity of the situation. They wound up in the room with the largest television and the most comfortable sofa where Logan flipped the channels to ESPN 2 to watch . . . hockey. Scott shot him an incredulous look as he settled beside him on the sofa.

Logan shrugged. “It’s the play-offs,” he said by way of explanation. When Scott didn’t look appeased, he added, “I hardly ever get to watch these games live.” 

“Is this some new cruel and unusual punishment?” Scott asked. 

“Hey,” Logan said, jabbing him in the chest with an adamantium-laced finger. “If I watch hockey, then you watch hockey. Them’s the rules.” 

Scott shook his head and turned his attention to the screen, the white ice a pink hue and the players whirring by in shades of red. 

“Got a favorite team?” Logan asked after a minute’s silence. 

Scott gave him a sideways look, lips curling into a wry grin. The most he knew about hockey was that the puck had to be put into the opposing team’s net in order to score a goal. Once Logan found that out, Scott Summers’ education in Canada’s national pastime truly began.

So hockey was added to their routine (and Scott tried desperately not think of what it meant to have a _routine_ ). Scott suspected that Logan’s interest in the game waned a little once the team he was cheering for was knocked out of the playoffs. His suspicions were confirmed when during the second period of the first semi-final game a wandering hand unzipped his slacks and slipped into his briefs. His breathing hitched and he instantly froze. 

“Logan,” he hissed. “Not in public, remember?” 

“There’s no one here,” Logan replied calmly. “And I can sense anyone coming down the hall. Your secret’s safe, Princess.”

Scott gritted his teeth, ready to launch another protest but Logan was doing that thing he couldn’t resist with his hand and he was quickly losing the ability to form coherent sentences so with a frustrated groan he gave in, letting his head fall back against the sofa. Logan redoubled his efforts, the game forgotten and when Scott jerked and came, his world flashed white as it so often did when he was with Logan. When he could finally see straight again, he made a face. There was no way he was going to finish the game with this sticky mess in his pants. Logan was leaning over him, propped on one elbow, one hand still massaging his softening cock. He had that smirk that infuriated Scott to no end, no matter how many times they’d done this. It was a secret, knowing smirk that Scott wanted to wipe off his face, a smirk that said he knew just how to please the younger man. What goaded Scott most of all was that Logan was absolutely right. That smirk always triggered the fight or fuck response in him, but this was the first time, sitting in the den with the hockey game in the background and Logan’s face so near his own, that he had to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss the other man.


	2. Meet the Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since X3 doesn't exist in this universe (thank god), Warren is back as an original member of the team.

There was laughter coming from the kitchen. Three occupants. Male. Logan recognized Summers’ voice instantly, Drake he picked up quickly enough but the third? The third was unfamiliar and Logan narrowed his eyes, his hearing zeroing in on the unknown voice. Cultured accent. Well-educated. Making Summers laugh. Logan hadn’t even met the guy and he was already rubbing him the wrong way. He strode into the kitchen and took in the scene before him. 

The three men were sitting around the island at the center of the kitchen. Bobby was on one side with a soda in front him. Summers was on the other side, nursing a beer and beside him was the stranger, taking a swig from his own bottle of beer. He was blond and blue-eyed with Byronic features to match that cultured voice, but the most striking thing about him was the extraordinary pair of wings that Logan could see resting against his back. 

“Logan,” Scott said in greeting, giving him a faint smile. 

“Logan?” the blond man repeated, putting his beer down on the table and standing up with an outstretched hand. “At last. I’ve been hearing so much about you,” he said, addressing Logan. 

Logan gave him a hard look and crossed his arms. “Well, I don’t know you, bub,” he replied curtly. 

Scott shook his head. “You’ll have to excuse Wolverine,” he apologized to the blond man. “Being in the wilderness after so many years, we’re still trying to teach him manners.” 

“Good luck with that,” Bobby said under his breath, quickly taking a drink of his soda. 

“Logan, this is Warren Worthington III,” Scott continued, attempting to make a formal introduction. 

“You’re the tight-ass about punctuality,” Logan replied, looking directly at Summers and completely ignoring the introduction. “The training session slip your mind?” 

Scott paused before nodding slowly. “It did,” he admitted. Then he stood up and turned to Warren. “That’s what happens when old friends catch up. We’ll continue this tomorrow?” 

“Sure. You still owe me,” Warren returned, somewhat too conspiratorially for Logan’s liking. 

The friendliness and ease between the two men was making Logan’s blood boil and he turned and walked out of the kitchen, not bothering to wait for Summers who eventually fell into step beside him somewhere on the staircase leading up to the second floor. 

“A training session,” Scott said in good humor when they’d reached the landing of the second floor. “Aren’t we heading the wrong way for that?” 

Logan spun around suddenly, crowding the younger man’s space. “We may just do that,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Head down to the Danger Room so I can beat the shit out of you.” 

Scott’s good humor faltered as his lips pursed together into a thin line. He glanced about them quickly to make sure they were alone before he placed a hand on Logan’s hip and stepped even closer into Logan’s space. Logan’s senses were assaulted by the nearness of him, of the clean scent that was uniquely Summers like fresh morning rain. Summers made it difficult to concentrate. 

“Look, I get it,” Scott was saying. 

_No, you really don’t_ , Logan wanted to tell him. _I’m not sure I get it myself_.

“I didn’t really forget,” Scott explained. “That would be stupid. I thought you were busy helping Marie and when you were done, you’d just come find me.” 

It was Logan’s turn to purse his lips into a thin line. He hated that Summers was right, that that was exactly what had happened. And if he had found Summers simply laughing in the kitchen with Bobby Drake, he probably would have sat down and joined them for a beer like a normal teammate would until Summers found a smooth way to excuse them both. Scott was the master at that. He liked to think that he was discreet when it counted, but he had nothing on Summers when it came to the whole poker face, live a double-life, sneaking around bullshit. 

“Are we good?” 

They were. There was probably nothing Logan wouldn’t forgive Summers for, but he’d find a way to kill himself before he’d let the other man know that. Summers had way too much power over him already. 

“We’ll see,” he replied stubbornly. 

“Would you rather I chained myself to the bed and waited for you?” 

“Idea has potential,” Logan grumbled. “Might just do that anyway.” 

The patented Summers grin was back. “C’mon,” Scott said, giving Logan’s hip a squeeze. 

Logan watched Summers’ retreating form for a moment before following the other man to his room.

* * * * *

“Warren Worthington III,” Logan said out loud suddenly, pausing in mid-thrust. “As in Worthington Industries?”

“What?” 

Scott was breathless beneath him, face flushed from exertion. It wasn’t the first time Logan appreciated the other man’s flexibility. Summers was lithe, athletic, and had the body of a swimmer; and once Logan found out that Scott was flexible enough to take Logan on his back, it became Logan’s favorite position because it allowed him to see the play of expressions as they flitted across Summers’ normally cool and impassive face. Cyclops was nowhere to be found when they were in bed together, and Logan took pride in the fact that it was _he_ that elicited those moans and gasps from the other man, that Summers’ pleasure was in his control, that Scott belonged to him, if only in this moment.

“Worthington Industries,” Logan repeated, completely stilling as he waited for a response. 

“What about it?” Scott asked, flexing his hips in an attempt to goad Logan into moving. Logan’s right arm was wrapped around Scott’s waist and he tightened his grip, effectively preventing any more movement from Summers. Scott groaned in frustration. 

“That Warren’s old man?” 

“Yes,” Scott ground out, straining against his bonds. 

Logan had made good on his threat and although he hadn’t actually used chains or handcuffs, he had tied Scott’s wrists to the bedposts with some of Jean’s old silk scarves. He’d wondered briefly as he’d done so whether or not Scott and Jean had used those scarves for the same purpose. Even though he was, for the most part, sharing Summers’ bed now, thoughts of Jean and her relationship with Scott still plagued him. He wanted to _know_ , but he and Summers never spoke of her, certainly not since the deal had been struck. Maybe one day . . . one day he would be able to ask Summers about it free from the anger or jealousy or bitter resentment that often accompanied those thoughts. But right now he had Summers immobilized and at his mercy, and he had no problems asking him about someone else who was already beginning to stoke those same fires of anger and jealousy. 

“Tell me about Wings.” 

“You want to talk _now_?”

“Tell me about Wings.” 

“Not much to tell.” 

“Don’t believe ya.” 

Summers’ visor went dark and Logan knew that Scott had closed his eyes in an effort to control himself. 

“Wings,” Logan prompted, punctuating the word with a quick thrust. 

The light flared back on and Scott grunted. “Warren was part of the original team,” he finally said. 

“He your ex?” 

“What? No! Uh,” Scott faltered and Logan encouraged him with another thrust, this time slow and smooth, striking that spot deep within him perfectly. 

“Not . . . my ex,” Scott tried again, as Logan began the long, slow strokes. This was a different kind of torture, but at least Logan was moving. “We were . . . really young . . . just . . . kids . . . fooling around.” 

“He was your first?” 

The idea disconcerted Logan. Somehow he’d always thought that Jean had been Scot’s first, potentially his only until Logan came along. Scott and Jean’s story had that epic, old world romance about it. 

“Ah,” Scott said, back arching as he strained to meet Logan. 

“That a ‘yes?’” 

“No,” Scott moaned. “Not my first.” 

Logan bent down and licked the sweat off the strong pulse at the base of Scott’s neck. “Jean then?” he asked quietly. 

“Logan, please.” 

Scott’s voice was barely a whisper but Logan heard everything Scott was trying to say behind those two words. _Please stop talking. Please don’t ask me about Jean. Please don’t ask me about Warren. Please, for the love of God, let me come!_ And Logan obliged because Scott had asked without really asking and that was how it was between them.

When Logan finally undid the ties around Scott’s wrists, Scott wrapped his arms around Logan’s broad back, one hand rubbing circles at the base of Logan’s spine, while the other gently scratched at a shoulder blade. Logan rested on top of him for a little while, never quite letting the full weight of his adamantium frame fall on the other man. When he eventually rolled onto his back, he was pleased when Scott moved with him, curling into his side, Scott’s head resting on his shoulder as one of Scott’s legs draped over his own. There had been a time when Scott had always turned away from him, but now moments like these made it easier to believe that this wasn’t just about sex, no matter how much he proclaimed otherwise. 

The truth was, it had stopped being just about sex for Logan a while back, probably roundabout the same time he had accidentally fallen asleep in Summers’ bed. Those first few nights Logan had been vigilant about staying awake, even as he had spooned himself behind Scott and pressed the other man against him. He had been content to hold Scott while he slept, too afraid of having another nightmare and skewering Summers in the process. But towards the end of the first month of their contract, after a particularly exhausting mission, Logan had drifted off after Scott had blown him. He’d woken up in the early hours of dawn, stunned that he had slept so long and shocked that he had slept so peacefully. Beside him Summers was still dead to the world and as was his custom, Logan had slipped soundlessly out of bed, dressed quickly and returned to his room. 

After that night, Logan tried lightly napping after sex. Still nothing happened. The naps grew deeper. Longer. Pretty soon he was sleeping soundly, the sort of sleep he couldn’t remember having had for years. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something about Summers’ presence that kept those nightmares away, something about Summers that gave him peace. His instincts told him that that peace was being threatened, that the delicate balance that they had achieved was in danger of collapsing. 

He hoped he was wrong.

* * * * *

Warren Worthington III who had appeared unexpectedly that night, much to Logan’s supreme annoyance, also unexpectedly stayed. Clearly something was going on based on the amount of time Wings spent in Chuck’s office, usually with Scott by his side.

 _With Scott by his side_. 

Logan couldn’t deny it. The amount of time those two spent together bothered him. _A lot_. He knew it shouldn’t. It’s not like he had any claim on Summers (well, not _all_ the time) and nothing had actually changed between them since Warren’s arrival. After all, the deal was still on. Logan could handle it and he thought he was handling it fairly well until Warren resumed his duties as one of the X-Men.

The first time Warren joined a training session, Logan completely lost it. It was the shock, he supposed, of seeing Warren in the black leather of the uniform, totally at ease, his wings practically glowing behind him. His call sign was an absolute no-brainer, although Logan sneered at its girliness. Angel. The prissiness of it suited him well enough, but the pampered rich kid turned out to be an experienced fighter, unsurprising seeing as it was Cyclops who’d trained him. Still, if given the opportunity, Logan could’ve ripped him to shreds. There was no way Wings could stand against him one-on-one. 

That training session was the first real disaster they’d had in months, mainly because of Logan but Warren had helped. Cyclops, ever attuned to the shifting dynamics of the team, quickly split them up, pairing Angel with Storm and Nightcrawler, while Wolverine worked with Iceman and Rogue. The exercises went smoothly enough, but once the two teams were pitted against each other in a simulation, something snapped in Logan and he committed the cardinal sin of abandoning his teammates to go after Angel alone. Their fight had been bloody and vicious in a way that his own physical fights with Cyclops had never been in the past. The two of them had to be pulled apart. Storm and Nightcrawler came to the aid of Angel, but Logan was relentless. It was almost as if he were possessed. In the end, Cyclops had actually had to blast him so that Logan was slammed against the wall, the front of his uniform almost smoking from the force beam where Cyclops had hit him while his healing factor kicked in to seal the wound in his midsection. Scott was furious. He hadn’t raised his voice to Logan professionally in months (there had been no need), but this time Logan got an earful and then some. Logan’s response was to extend the middle claw of his right hand and flip Scott the bird before stalking out of the Danger Room. On his way out he could hear Warren saying, “Why the hell do you put up with him?” 

Scott sighed in reply. “Because he’s valuable in the field.” 

“How valuable can he be with that kind of attitude?” 

Logan didn’t bother to wait for Scott’s answer.

* * * * *

By the time Logan got back to the mansion it was shortly after midnight. All the lights were dark except for the ones in the garage, which was where he happened to be headed. He frowned as he drove into the well-lit garage and cut the engine on the yellow motorbike. It was Scott’s, of course. Summers was a speed freak, but Logan hadn’t ‘borrowed’ one of his precious toys in some time. At least, not without informing Summers first. ‘Informing’ wasn’t the same as ‘asking permission’ but Logan thought it was a helluva improvement over ‘taking.’ That afternoon when he’d stormed out of the Danger Room, he’d lapsed into his old habit of ‘taking.’

Now Summers was in the garage, waiting for him Logan assumed, in a grease-streaked pair of overalls looking for all the world like just another mechanic, except for those unusual ruby quartz lenses. He looked up from under the hood of another classic car that he was restoring when Logan drove in. 

“She out of gas?” Summers asked in a tone that implied he already knew the answer. 

Logan remained on the bike, still frowning. Finally, he said, “I’ll fill ‘er up in the morning.” 

Summers nodded, wiping his hands on a rag and closing the hood of the car. “What happened earlier?” 

The fight or flight response in Logan kicked in. He didn’t want to deal with this shit now, but Summers was walking towards him and he felt glued to his seat. “Is this why you’re up past your bedtime?” he found himself sneering in reply. Thank god for defense mechanisms. 

Summers was undeterred. “Yes,” he said simply. He was standing in front of Logan now, a hand resting on one of the bike’s handles. 

Logan shut down. He wasn’t about to flee but neither was he going to answer the question. He could be a stubborn bastard that way and Summers knew it too. 

“Look, I know you don’t like Warren,” Scott began after the silence had stretched on for a little too long. 

“What’s he doing here?” Logan interrupted suddenly. When Scott tilted his head questioningly, Logan continued in a way that showed he’d given the matter some thought. “Guy turns up one day, decides to stick around when he should probably be helping to run daddy’s empire. What’s he doing here?” Logan repeated. 

It was Scott’s turn to remain silent, but Logan could see that the other man was deciding how much he could tell him. 

“Warren’s doing something for the Professor,” Scott said at last. 

Logan grunted. Apparently, Summers couldn’t tell him very much at all. 

“It’s a secret for now,” Scott said, sounding mildly embarrassed. “It has to do with some developments over at Worthington Labs.” 

“More mutant experimentation?” Logan offered. 

“Not quite,” Scott said. “Well, I hope not,” he revised. 

When it was clear that Summers wasn’t going to give him any more than that (it was better than nothing), Logan fell silent again. 

“This thing with Warren,” Scott began once more. 

“What’s he doing on the team?” 

Logan was making a habit of interrupting. He knew it was the sort of rudeness that would drive Summers crazy. 

Scott opened his mouth to speak but then shut it. Clearly, he was sorting out his thoughts before he began. “The team,” he said carefully, “is always evolving. People come. They go. They come back. Everyone brings with them their own special set of skills. Everyone is useful. It’s my job to hold everything together, even if some members want to rip out the guts of other members. Even if _I_ want to rip out the guts of some members,” he added, giving Logan a faint smile. Then he sobered. Logan knew it was Cyclops speaking. “You and Warren don’t have to like each other, but you do have to work together. At least, while you’re both here. Warren’s not going to be around forever. Neither will you.” Summers shrugged. “But since you’re both here now, and I don’t plan on kicking either one of you out, you’ll have to find a way to co-exist. I _know_ you can do that.”

Logan grunted again. It seemed to be the safest, most non-committal response but Summers wouldn’t settle for it tonight. 

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Scott prodded. 

“I ain’t promising anything.” 

Scott laughed suddenly. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to get you to promise to do anything,” he said. 

Logan was surprised by how much those words stung. He got off the bike, the stiffness of his actions betraying his slight irritation. He was about to leave when he felt a hand grip his forearm and he looked up. Summers was even nearer than he had been before. Logan liked the smell of sweat and grease on him. It didn’t fit with the prim and proper image of the Boy Scout. He inhaled deeply, his breath almost catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” Scott said seriously. “For blasting you earlier, even though you didn’t give me much choice.” He paused. “Thank you,” he added. 

Logan arched an eyebrow. “For what?” 

“For trying with Warren.” 

“I ain’t done nothing yet,” Logan pointed out, the sincerity of Scott’s words and actions was rolling off him and hitting Logan with more force than he could handle. 

“No, but . . .” Scott trailed off. They both knew what he meant. “Well,” he said, letting the hand that held Logan’s arm fall to his side but not moving away. Now that the moment had passed, a slight awkwardness was settling between them. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said finally. 

Logan didn’t even bother to nod in acknowledgement but his eyes remained fixed on Summers as the other man turned around, walked to a locker, shrugged off the greasy coveralls and then left the garage. The urge to follow him was strong and Logan had to remind himself that the deal wasn’t on tonight, not after his display in the Danger Room. 

It wasn’t just the deal, Logan thought as he switched off the lights and left the garage himself. It was easy to follow Summers once he’d allowed himself to do so. The damn Boy Scout was genuinely inspiring and moreover, he knew what he was doing. Logan suspected that he had been in the military for most of his life, however long that was, and he could recognize a master strategist and tactician when he saw one. That’s what it boiled down to really. It was easy to follow Summers in the field because he trusted him. And he hoped, over the course of these last few months, that Summers had come to trust him as well and not just in the field.

* * * * *

The first mission with Warren as a member of the team again was hard, not in terms of their objective, which was straightforward scouting and surveillance, but it was hard for Logan in terms of finding his place on the team. Although it had never been discussed officially, it was understood that Storm’s seniority meant that she was in charge if Cyclops wasn’t around. However, despite Storm’s seniority, it was Logan who had become the go-to guy if Cyclops needed anything done. In the short time since the deal began, Logan had unofficially become Cyclops’ right-hand man. More than anyone else on the team, even more than Marie, Logan had Summers’ back because that’s what wingmen did. Warren changed all that. Aside from being a literal ‘wingman,’ Logan quickly understood that he used to be Summers’ wingman too. The damn boy was always hovering, always in Summers’ space and Logan noted with a sinking feeling that Summers didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to find the situation familiar.

While Logan and Warren never came to blows again like that first training session, the tension between the two of them was palpable. Iceman jokingly called it Cyclops and Wolverine 2.0, but he never said that in front of Angel, Cyclops or Wolverine. It was practically SOP for Summers to separate Angel and Wolverine whenever he could. Generally, Summers followed the same pattern he’d established during the first training session, often pairing Angel with Storm or Nightcrawler. Logan detected an undercurrent of attraction between Storm and Angel, and he wondered if they had hooked up in the past as well. He was on the verge of asking Summers about it, except that bringing up Warren in whatever context with Scott usually led to a disagreement between them and he was growing tired of those. It was a far cry from the not-too-distant past when Logan looked for every opportunity to be confrontational with Summers. When that confrontational attitude had stopped, he didn’t know. What he did know was that if the attraction between Storm and Angel was an undercurrent, then the one between Scott and Warren was a flowing river. Logan just wasn’t sure if the current only flowed one way, namely from Warren to Scott, but he was invested in finding out.

His own deal with Summers was still on, but he wasn’t spending as much time with Summers as he had been before. It wasn’t because he was being particularly rebellious in training or during missions. He just wasn’t satisfied with what they had anymore, but he didn’t know how to go about fixing that. It’s not like he was any good at dealing with the emotional crap. That’s why he preferred physical relationships. They were far less complicated. Still, he should’ve anticipated that anything that had to do with Summers would be complicated, physical or not. 

Logan knew that Scott wasn’t oblivious to his distance, but Logan had called the shots on this deal from the beginning. If he didn’t want to take his reward, then Summers wasn’t going to force the issue. But Summers was still Cyclops and after a particularly satisfying one-on-one sparring session in the Danger Room while they were both laying on the floor breathing heavily from their exertions, Summers brought up their arrangement. 

“Do you want out?” Scott said out of the blue. 

“Out of what?” 

“The deal.” 

The silence grew louder in the quiet room. 

“No.”

Summers sat up, while Logan remained stretched out on the floor beside him. “It’s just . . .” he trailed off. 

Logan looked to his left. The normally eloquent field leader was at a loss for something to say. It was a novelty. 

“It’s just,” Summers began again. “You don’t really visit me anymore. Even when things are fine.” 

“Miss the sex, do you?” 

Logan could see Summers fighting the grin that was threatening to break out on his face. “It’s pretty good,” he admitted. 

Logan didn’t bother trying to hide his smug smirk though it probably came across as a wolfish grin. “I’ll be by later,” he replied. 

“Okay,” Summer agreed, picking himself up off the floor and heading for the showers.

So Logan waited for Summers in his room that night, ambushing him against the back of his door like he did in the beginning and Summers responded to his roughness in kind. There was a hint of desperation to the encounter that Logan tried to ignore as Summers bit his shoulder and virtually ripped his clothes off. They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, nips, licks and kisses. But never on the mouth. They never kissed on the mouth. 

The sex was violent, much more violent than it had been in a while but it was also supremely satisfying. Logan still marveled at how similar sex and fighting was for him. There was the exertion, the adrenaline and the rush of blood, followed by the afterglow as his body cooled down. Sex and fighting with Summers was the best kind of all whether they were sparring in the Danger Room or sparring in bed, which is why the words that left his mouth as they lay side-by-side completely stunned him. 

“Do you want out?” 

The bed lightly shook as Summers laughed in response. “You’re asking me that after what we just did?” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

Summers sighed but Logan could hear the contentment in it. “It was a rhetorical question.” 

“Not good enough.” Logan wanted to hear Scott say it. 

“Do _you_ want out?” Summers shot back, totally perplexed. 

“I already told ya I don’t,” Logan returned just as sharply. 

“Then why are you acting like this?” 

“Why aren’t you answering the question?” 

“Because I already did,” Scott nearly exploded. He was sitting up now, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. “I don’t want out of the deal, but I don’t understand what’s happening either. What are we fighting about here?” 

Logan didn’t think he could put that into words, so he placed his hands at the back of his head as he casually stretched on the bed, feigning a disinterest that couldn’t be further from his actual state of mind. 

“What’s this really about?” Scott pushed, leaning over him. 

Logan shut down. The strong, silent approach had worked in the past.

Scott sighed again and this time there was no trace of contentment, just pure exasperation. “Look, I’m sorry I brought up the idea of getting out of the deal, but you’ve been acting strange. I thought that maybe you were bored or that you’d lost interest in . . . whatever this is. It was bound to happen sooner or later. That’s why I asked if you wanted out.” 

Logan felt his irritation flare at the notion that his boredom or lack of interest was inevitable for Summers. Didn’t Mr. Sensitive understand anything? “Is that all?” he snapped in response. 

“What else is there?” 

“Wings.” 

“What does Warren have to do with this?” Scott’s perplexity and exasperation were growing if his voice was anything to go by. 

_Everything_ , Logan wanted to yell and he mentally congratulated himself when he calmly but crassly said, “He has a hard-on for you.” 

“He’s not in my bed.” Scott’s voice was cold and he sounded dangerously close to Cyclops at this moment. 

“He wants to be,” Logan went on, unable to stop himself now. “And I think you want him there too.” 

“What the fuck is this?” Scott asked. “Warren has nothing to do with us.” 

“There is no _us_ , Cyke.”

“I _know_ that,” Scott replied. “Which is why none of this makes sense. You sound like you’re ending this _non-relationship_ and over what? Over Warren? He’s had a hard-on for me for years. It’s not a big deal.” 

But it was a big deal because Wolverine felt threatened by Warren and Wolverine did not like feeling threatened. His normal response would be to eliminate any threat. The catch was he couldn’t do that this time because Summers would never forgive him. It was a ridiculous dilemma; a very un-Wolverine dilemma and he hated Summers at this moment for putting him in this bind, even if the other man was generally clueless on the matter. Worse, eliminating Warren wouldn’t exactly solve his problem with Summers but it sure as hell would make him _feel_ better. Of course, the classic Wolverine response to situations such as these would be to run away and every now and then, it still seemed to be the best option. 

“Wait a minute,” Scott said suddenly, sounding very much like he’d just had some sort of epiphany. “Are you . . . _jealous_? Please tell me that’s not what this is about.”

Logan could hear the swift change in register in Scott’s tone. He’d gone from angry, to stunned, to amazed, to amused in a matter of seconds. Oh, god. Now Summers was laughing at him. Maybe not out loud, but inside Summers must’ve been having a fit. Wolverine jealous. It _was_ pretty funny, but it was also the last straw. Logan got up and began to dress. Scott was actually laughing now. Not inside, but chuckling quietly and the sound grated on Logan’s hearing. 

“Really?” Scott was saying, amusement and disbelief mingling in his voice. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous? Of _Warren_?” 

The blood was rushing through Logan’s head. He could barely hear Summers now. All he knew was he had to get out of the room before he put his claws through something and ripped it to shreds.

Scott seemed to realize what was going on and he stopped his teasing although it was impossible for him to keep the humor out of his voice. “Logan, stop,” he protested at the other man’s actions. “Just wait. Wait,” he pleaded, shifting over to Logan’s side of the bed. “Will you just _listen_?” 

“To what?” Logan snapped, pausing for a moment.

“This is ridiculous,” Scott told him. 

It really was. Ridiculous. Absurd. There were about a dozen other synonyms he could call it to impress Summers with his supposedly non-existent vocabulary. 

“There’s nothing for you to be jealous of.” 

“You’re right, Cyke,” Logan agreed, putting on his worn denim jacket. “There is nothing for me to be jealous of because there’s nothing here.” He paused and gave Summers a hard stare. “Deal’s over, Cyclops.” 

And with those final words, Logan left a shocked Scott Summers behind him.


	3. (This is Not) Rescue 101

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although X3 doesn't exist in this universe, I've imported the idea of the cure from the film.

So Logan ended the deal. It had lasted a whole six months, which was probably a record for him if the thing with Summers had been a proper relationship (which, of course, it hadn’t been). Now that he was through, he wasn’t sure what came next. Was he still an X-Man? Would Summers kick him off the team? Did he still want to be on the team? He knew the answer to the last question, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself much less to anyone else. He didn’t want to leave. He thought he’d finally found a place where he could settle down, a place where he could actually do some good. In the end, he’d bought into the Professor’s dream. Sure, Summers had had a lot to do with that and staying on at Westchester could never be the same without having Summers too, but it seemed possible. The school, after all, was a big place and he wouldn’t have to spend more time around Summers than was strictly necessary. Logan was contemplating all this as he ‘borrowed’ one of Summers’ bikes and took off the following morning without informing anyone of where he was headed or indeed, if he was coming back. 

Logan wasn’t surprised to discover that there had been a pool for whether or not he would return. Marie, together with Kurt, had been a staunch believer that he’d be back. Warren and Bobby had led the opposing side. Ororo had remained on the fence, skeptical but hopeful about the whole thing. And Summers? While he hadn’t actually joined in the pool (he deemed it his responsibility to remain impartial), Marie told Logan privately that Scott had been ‘confident’ of Logan’s return. ‘Confident’ had actually been the word she’d used. 

“He was so certain,” Marie had said as they sat on one of the benches in the garden the day that Logan returned. “His faith gave me faith and we were both right.” She smiled brightly at him. 

Logan felt a tightness in his chest as he stared at nothing in the distance. Even after everything that had happened between them, Summers still had faith in him. He didn’t know what to make of that. 

It wasn’t long before Marie had to go back to class and Logan was left wandering the mansion grounds. Everything was still the same, at least on the surface. When he finally went inside, whom should he run into in the main hallway but the Professor and Cyclops coming out of the former’s office? 

“Logan,” Xavier greeted him in that warm fatherly voice. “Did you have a good trip?” His tone was casual, inquiring after Logan as though he had simply been on a vacation. 

Eloquent as always, Logan grunted in reply. He didn’t think drinking, gambling, fighting and whoring would fit the Professor’s definition of “good,” much less a vacation. 

“Sometimes we just need to get away,” the Professor went on. “Next time let us know how we can reach you in case of an emergency.” 

“Can’t you just find me anywhere with Cerebro?” Logan asked. 

“It’s the principle of the matter, Logan,” the Professor answered serenely as he motioned to Scott that they should be on their way. 

Logan pulled out a cigar and was just about to light it when he heard a familiar admonition. 

“You can’t smoke that indoors.” 

Of course, those would be the first words Summers would say to him in a week. 

“There’s a team meeting at 5:00pm,” Scott stated matter-of-factly. 

Logan nodded stiffly, the cigar still in his hand but unlit. At least that comment had answered one of his unasked questions – he was still on the team. He watched as Summers and Chuck went down the hallway. So, this is how it was going to be between them. Professional. Formal. Polite. He supposed he could live with that. It was a better reception than he had expected.

* * * * *

Logan was lounging in one of the black leather seats around the metallic conference table that they used for team meetings. Being early wasn’t his style but Marie had cajoled him into coming down with her. He’d only been gone a week but Hank had been working on some new tech that was ready for field testing and Marie had wanted to show him some of the new toys. Despite all the training she’d undergone with Summers and himself, she still felt better with the weapons. Her mutant ability was one of the most powerful on the team, but it was a close contact ability and it wasn’t always easy to get that close to an opponent. Even when she was able to get close, there was still the brief moment of hesitation before she used her power. She was still afraid of it; afraid of the destruction she could cause no matter how much training she’d done with the Professor and Cyclops on controlling her power. Logan didn’t blame her. It was no simple thing to drain the life force of someone else, whether they deserved it or not. Marie wasn’t like him. She would never be a killer.

Logan was watching her fondly across the table as she laughed at something that Bobby said. He wondered how their relationship was progressing. They seemed to be doing well, but how long could that last if you couldn’t touch someone? His attention was drawn to the door as Scott and Warren walked in with Ororo not far behind them. Ororo gave him a warm smile as she took the empty seat beside him. Logan noticed with satisfaction that Warren had done a genuine double take when he saw Logan casually sitting there, his face settling into a slight frown as he stood beside Scott at the head of the table. _Right-hand man_ , Logan thought. They’d just have to see about that, wouldn’t they? 

“Thank you all for coming,” Summers said, calling the meeting to order. “As some of you may know, Warren has been doing some work for the Professor by monitoring very specific research at Worthington Labs. It’s best if he explains what’s happening at his father’s company.” Scott nodded at Warren to take over. 

Warren wasted no time in getting straight to the point. 

“My father’s scientists have found a cure for mutation, for the X-gene,” he stated. “At least, that’s what they’re calling it.” 

“A cure?” Marie repeated, and there was no mistaking the hope in her voice. 

Ororo had a different reaction. “We don’t need a cure,” she said icily. “None of us are sick and a ‘cure’ implies that we are.” 

“We understand that it’s a very controversial topic,” Scott interjected in order to placate her. “The Professor is not taking a side on the matter and neither is the school. If humans want to pursue a drug to eliminate the X-gene or inhibit its effects, they’re free to do so. Just like it’s the choice of every mutant whether or not they want to take this so-called ‘cure.’”

Ororo was shaking her head, clearly still upset at the whole idea. “First a Bill for Mutant Registration and now this. When will it ever stop?” 

“I don’t think it will ever stop,” Kurt said quietly. 

“If you think about it,” Bobby said thoughtfully. “The Bill and the cure would cancel each other out. Mutants wouldn’t need to register if they were no longer mutants. Maybe that’s the point.” 

“Not necessarily,” Ororo countered. “I think the government would still want to know if someone was once a mutant and what powers they possessed. What if this cure doesn’t work or it’s only temporary? The Bill ensures that the government would have a back-up plan for monitoring mutants.” 

“The government does like to keep track of things like that,” Kurt agreed. 

“We can talk philosophy and politics later,” Logan said. He nodded in Warren’s direction. “What stage is this cure at?” 

“It’s in the final stages of testing. The scientists are working on the best form of dispersal, although a vaccination is the most likely,” Warren replied. 

“The final stages,” Ororo echoed. “You mean they’ve been testing it on mutants?” 

“Volunteers,” Warren clarified. 

Ororo’s expression said it all. She couldn’t understand why any mutant would volunteer for that, even though there was one among them who would probably have jumped at the opportunity. 

“My father has plans to go public with the cure very soon,” Warren went on. “Most likely by next week.” 

“The heads up is great and all, Wings,” Logan said dryly. “But if the Professor is taking a neutral stance, what does it have to do with us?” 

“Plenty,” Scott answered before Warren could speak. “Aside from helping authorities maintain the peace and properly educating our students on the matter, something more pressing has turned up. Until now, the source of this cure has been a tightly guarded secret, even within Worthington Labs. We had believed it to be a purely synthetic drug but the speed of its development raised our suspicions. Warren has just discovered that the cure is, in fact, another mutant.” 

A ripple of shock went through the room and Logan’s expression went from interest to anger. “More mutant experimentation,” he snarled. There was nothing like experimenting on mutants to set him off so quickly. 

“It gets worse,” Scott said quietly. “The mutant is just a boy.” 

“Have they hurt him?” Ororo asked quickly, her own anger evaporating into concern. 

“We don’t believe so,” Warren answered. “But that’s about to change.” 

“What do you mean?” Marie asked. 

“The military has found out about the child and they’ve ordered Worthington Labs to turn him over into the custody of the State,” Scott said. 

“They can do that?” Marie said, sounding amazed. 

“The government can do anything it wants,” Logan growled, getting angrier by the moment. 

“The boy is an orphan,” Scott explained. “It’s unclear how Worthington Labs got hold of him, but we’re fairly certain that he wasn’t in the system in the first place.” 

“My father’s methods have been . . . dubious . . . in the past,” Warren admitted.

“So legally, yes. The government can have him transferred into their custody,” Scott continued. “But they’re not doing it for the boy’s benefit. They have their own motives. The Professor has found out through his contacts that the military division once headed by Stryker has gained custody of the child. They want to weaponize him, to turn his gene against us.” 

“But do they really need the boy for that?” Kurt said in his soft tones. “The research has already been done. Can’t they just turn the findings into a weapon if that is what they want?” He hesitated. “Which is not to say that a weapon would be a good thing, by any means.” 

“The cure on its own is already a weapon,” Ororo agreed. 

“The military scientists could weaponize the vaccine,” Warren explained. “Except for the fact that my father no longer deals with the military and won’t share the research with them. He’s been burned too many times in the past.” 

“And they can’t just order him to turn over his research like the boy?” Kurt asked. 

Warren laughed gently at the suggestion, but his laughter wasn’t unkind. “They could try,” he said. “My father has his own private army, all former military turned mercenaries for hire. Any confrontation would be ugly and the higher-ups are smart enough to realize that.” 

“So, what’s the plan here?” Logan asked, addressing Cyclops. He still wasn’t too sure where this discussion was headed. 

“The plan is to get the boy before the military does,” Scott answered. “We may be taking a neutral stand towards the cure, but we’re not going to let any harm come to this boy from any of Stryker’s cronies. Warren’s found out that Worthington Industries is going to hand over the boy to a military facility tomorrow night. We’re going to intercept that handover before it can take place.” He paused. “There’s one more thing.” 

“Magneto?” Logan guessed. 

Scott nodded, his expression grim. “Magneto is an unknown factor,” he admitted. “We don’t know how much he knows about the cure or the boy, but with his resources, we’re assuming the worst.” 

“You think Magneto is also after the boy?” Storm questioned. 

“The Professor believes so,” Scott answered. “And Warren has just found out that there’s been a security breach at Worthington Labs. We suspect it was Mystique gathering what intel she could about the boy’s location. And that’s not all.” 

“You mean there’s more?” Bobby said, the slightly higher pitch to his voice indicating that he probably couldn’t handle much more. 

“This mission is going to be different from other missions,” Scott went on. “Once we have the boy, once we’re _near_ him, we won’t have our abilities any more. His presence is enough to depower us.” 

“Shit,” Bobby said, the idea of being depowered clearly not occurring to him. 

“What’s the range of this kid?” Logan asked. “Is he gonna depower us as soon as we’re in a hundred feet of him or what?” 

“We don’t know,” Warren admitted. “There’s very little information about him available.”

“Again, we’re going to assume the worst,” Scott informed them. “Which is why now is a good time to play with some of Hank’s new toys.” 

As usual, there was something in Scott’s tone that told them all that the meeting was over, and that they were likely all headed for the Danger Room for an extra training session with the aforementioned ‘toys.’ 

“Well,” Bobby said, eventually standing up. “I for one want to see what that molecular destabilizer can do.” 

“Is that what Dr. McCoy really called it?” Marie asked as the two of them walked towards the exit. “It sounds so science fiction-y.” 

“We live in a school for mutants that has its own secret underground facility to rival the military. We go on missions dressed in black leather uniforms and act as vigilante superheroes. Everything about this place is science fiction,” Bobby replied, his voice fading down the hallway. 

Logan noted that Summers couldn’t help but grin at the exchange of the two younger team members as they passed him. He and Summers were the only two people left in the conference room, as Warren and Ororo had been the first to leave, followed shortly by Kurt. Logan was about to leave as well when the sound of his name stopped him. 

“Logan.” 

Summers said his name quietly but with authority. There was no doubt that it was a command. 

Logan turned around to face the other man, a wary expression on his face. Summers stood in front him, arms relaxed by his side. His body language didn’t match the tone of his voice. Logan wasn’t sure if it was Cyclops that was about to speak to him. 

“It’s good to have you back,” Scott said simply. 

There was no smile, no nod, no friendly gesture to accompany the statement; just the cool impassive mask that Logan had come to associate with Cyclops. Still, he felt a warmth bloom in his chest anyway and he gave Summers the barest of nods before he went on his way.

* * * * *

Scott was at the controls of the Blackbird with Storm in her usual place in the co-pilot’s seat. It was just like any other mission, Scott told himself. And it was. Mostly. Except that there was even more at stake this time. Although he was, like the others, concerned by the implications of a ‘cure’ to mutantkind, his primary concern was for the safety of the child. They had to get to him before the military did, before Magneto did.

The problem was that the X-Men’s Fearless Leader was a little distracted by the return of the wayward member of his team, who just happened to be sitting right behind him. Much to everyone’s surprise, Scott had never doubted that Logan would be back, he just hadn’t been sure _when_ Logan would return or what the conditions of that return would be. He had to hand it to the other man. Logan’s timing was impeccable. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or annoyed, whether to hug him or to hit him. But wasn’t that the usual state of affairs between them anyway? 

The deal was off now, but how would that translate on the field? Would Logan follow his orders or would he revert to his former self? Scott furrowed his brow. He really didn’t know and it’s not like he could ask Logan. What he _did_ know was that he had come to depend on Logan, particularly in the field. It would be strange not having that solid, steadfast presence by his side, although it was something he’d only recently acquired. Of course, he could count on anyone on the team, but Logan was different somehow. Logan had always been different. At the end of the day, whether the deal was on or not, Scott had to believe that he could trust Logan, that he could trust in the other man’s integrity. This mission was too important and Logan knew the stakes. He’d find out soon enough whether Wolverine would let him down.

* * * * *

The mission went south almost immediately. They hadn’t been in the air for more than 20 minutes before Hank contacted Scott to inform him that their destination had changed. Intercepting the exchange was thrown out the window when Scott found out that the exchange had taken place several hours ahead of schedule. The boy was already in the hands of the military and they were moving him to one of their bases in Virginia. Hank gave Scott the coordinates and Scott changed their course. He was familiar with the site and it turned out that Logan was as well. It was Ororo who expressed concern about the sudden change.

“We’re not sure what we’ll be up against,” she cautioned. “And we don’t know the layout of the military base. Do we even know the reason why the exchange was moved up?” 

“Worthington Industries got some news about the Brotherhood planning a strike on their facility,” Scott replied. 

“Well, that confirms the Professor’s suspicions,” Logan said. 

“But this military base,” Ororo persisted. “What do we know about it?” 

“I have a pretty good idea of what we’ll be up against,” Logan answered. “And I know the layout of the base. Been there before.” He sounded even grimmer than usual. 

“We can find the boy through their system,” Scott added. “Iceman, you’re in charge of hacking duties if it comes to that.” 

Bobby nodded, even though Scott couldn’t see him from where he was seated. 

“This needs to be done now,” Scott emphasized, recognizing how un-Cyclops the whole situation had become. It was completely unlike him to go in without a plan, a contingency and a back-up to the contingency. This was a lot more Wolverine’s style: strike first, pick up the pieces later. 

“We don’t know if the military will move the boy again,” Scott persevered, “and we need to get to him before their scientists begin their tests. If the Brotherhood was planning a strike on Worthington Labs, then there’s a chance that they also know where the boy’s been moved.” He paused. “I know it’s risky and there are possibilities that we haven’t considered, but the safety of the boy outweighs those concerns. I have faith,” he added, “in all of you. And that together, this mission will succeed.” 

It was a good pep talk, delivered with the perfect blend of sincerity and passion. It was meant for the entire team, but Scott’s last two sentences were aimed at one particular member and he hoped that his coded message had gotten through.

* * * * *

Scott landed the Blackbird in a field not far from the base, leaving the cloaking function on. Hank had sent what plans he could scrounge up about the layout of the base that showed that it used to be a power station of some kind. Logan pored over the plans, matching what he could with what he remembered.

“It doesn’t look like much from the outside,” Logan told the others as they surveyed the maps at the rear of the Blackbird. “But it’s pretty big underground. If it hasn’t changed, the holding cells are on the third sublevel.” 

“How do you know so much about this place?” Bobby asked. 

Logan ignored the question and that was answer enough. Memories and Wolverine tended to be a bad combination. 

“Cyclops,” Kurt said. “Didn’t you say that you are also familiar with this place?” 

Scott nodded. “When I was still a kid,” he explained. “I was kidnapped along with some other mutants during a fieldtrip. We were brought here. Jean was with me.” 

A heavy silence fell over the team at the mention of Jean’s name. Scott never talked about her and they could all count on one hand the number of times he’d said her name since she’d died. 

“It was her strong connection to the Professor that allowed him to find us so quickly,” Scott went on. “Cerebro wasn’t complete yet. It was the Professor and Magneto who rescued us.” 

“Magneto?” Marie repeated in disbelief. 

“They weren’t always enemies, Rogue,” Scott said, answering her unasked question. “And when they worked together to defeat Stryker? Well, that wasn’t the first time that happened either.” 

“I don’t remember this,” Ororo said thoughtfully. 

“It was before the Professor assembled the X-Men,” Scott told her. “When Jean and I were his only students.” Ororo gave him a smile with so much compassion that Scott had to look away. “Logan’s right,” he said, the authority of Cyclops returning to his voice. “I remember the holding cells to be on the third sublevel as well.”

* * * * *

“Electrified fence,” Logan observed from where he was crouched behind the tree line with Cyclops on his left and Rogue on his right.

“I count three guards on patrol plus the one in the tower,” Cyclops noted. 

They were at the back of the compound, where they had identified the nearest entrance into the room that controlled the security cameras. 

“Angel,” Cyclops said. “Take care of the guard in the tower. Nightcrawler, the guards on the ground are yours. When you’re done with them, by-pass the security system and shut down this fence.” 

The faint smell of sulphur was left behind as Nightcrawler disappeared into the night and a burst of wind indicated that Angel had launched himself into the air. The team watched as Kurt efficiently disabled the three roving guards and Angel deftly swooped in to immobilize the one in the tower. A moment later, Kurt was outside the door to the security room. He briefly turned back to look at his teammates and then he was gone. 

A faint buzz signaled that the high-voltage electricity coursing through the perimeter fence was turned off, leaving only the sound of the night insects in the air. 

“Make a hole,” Cyclops told Wolverine. 

Wolverine stood up, unsheathing his claws with a faint ‘snikt’ as he strode towards the fence. With his right claw, he sliced through the metal effortlessly, carving a neat doorway for his teammates. When he was done, he kicked it down with one foot and the metal landed with a dull thud on the ground. He turned back just in time to see the others already making their way to the new entrance. Storm took point, followed by Iceman and Rogue with Cyclops bringing up the rear. 

“That’s a big hole,” Cyclops pointed out, pausing after he passed through the entrance Logan had made. 

“Just following orders,” Wolverine snarked back. 

Cyclops was about to throw a jab of his own but decided against it, bending down instead to grasp one end of the cut out of the large steel fence “Help me get this back up,” he told Wolverine. 

Together the two of them repositioned the fallen part of the fence back in place. 

“It’s not going to hold for long,” Wolverine commented. 

“It’s not supposed to,” Cyclops answered as the two of them jogged towards the back door where their teammates, save for Angel who had taken the lookout position in the tower, had already entered the building. “We shouldn’t be here that long anyway,” he added as Wolverine followed him into the security room where the others were crowded around Iceman who was typing away at a computer terminal. 

Cyclops took note of the five security men – three of the guards outside and the two who had been in the room – who were tied up and unconscious in the corner of the room. He gave Nightcrawler a quick nod of approval before turning his attention to Iceman. 

“What have we got?” he asked. 

“This is a list of the detainees being held here,” Iceman explained, scrolling through the names. 

“Stop,” Cyclops suddenly said. “Go back.” He pointed to a name on the screen. 

“Leech?” Iceman questioned, even as he clicked open the file. 

“It’s a codename,” Cyclops explained, as a photograph of Leech appeared on the screen, followed by his details. Leech was a bald, pale-faced boy with very bright blue eyes. “Since he negates the powers of other mutants, he’s sort of like a leech. At least, that’s the basic reasoning.” Cyclops scanned the file. “He arrived today,” he said. “Just two hours ago. The timing matches.” 

“He’s in holding cell C8,” Wolverine said, standing beside Cyclops. “Can you pull up a map?” he asked Iceman. 

“Already done,” Iceman answered, a layout of the holding cells replacing Leech’s file on the screen. 

“It’s the last one,” Storm observed. “And it looks to be much larger than the others.” 

“It might double as a laboratory,” Kurt offered. 

“All right,” Cyclops said, straightening up. “Iceman, Rogue, you two stay here. Keep an eye on the monitors and keep us updated. Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler and I will go get Leech.” 

Rogue took the second seat next to Bobby as Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine and Nightcrawler left the room. 

“Angel,” Cyclops said, contacting the winged X-Man via his earpiece. “We’re on our way to get the boy. How does it look outside?” 

“All quiet out here,” came the answer. 

“Good,” Cyclops said. “Let us know if that changes.” 

“You mean if Magneto turns up?” 

“I’m trying to be optimistic.” 

The communication died with the sound of Angel’s quiet laughter. Cyclops led the way down the narrow hallway to the bank of elevators in the main reception area. 

“Place is too deserted,” Wolverine said in a low voice. He was walking one step behind Cyclops on his right. “Where’s the night shift?” 

There was no immediate answer to Logan’s question as the reception area was deserted as well. 

“I don’t like this, Cyke,” Wolverine said, how voice turning into a low growl. “Something ain’t right.” 

Privately, Cyclops agreed, but instead of saying that he contacted Iceman. “Iceman, any movement?” 

“No,” came Iceman’s reply. “It’s a little weird, Cyclops,” Iceman went on. “But Rogue and I don’t see anyone on these monitors.” 

“No one?” Scott repeated. 

“Nada.” 

Wolverine shot him a look that plainly said, _We’re walking into a trap_. Scott’s expression was equally grim and he nodded in silent assent. 

“I can scout ahead,” Nightcrawler offered. 

Cyclops shook his head. “We stick together,” he said, pressing the button for the elevator. 

The elevator doors immediately opened and the four of them walked inside. Wolverine hit the button for the third sublevel. He was standing to Scott’s right, this time slightly in front of him. Scott knew that Logan was doing that intentionally, that he would become a shield for Scott if they were ambushed when the elevator doors opened again. 

Thankfully, there was no ambush waiting for them on the third sublevel, just more emptiness and silence. In a way, Cyclops thought that might be worse. The tension was so thick now you could cut it with one of Wolverine’s claws.

“This way,” Scott said, turning left. Leech’s room would be at the end of the hallway. 

“Um, Cyclops?” Iceman’s voice came through the transmitter. 

“What is it?” 

“Bad news.” 

“Finally found where everybody’s hiding?” 

“Worse.” 

Scott mentally sighed. “Tell me,” he ordered. 

“I just discovered that the feed from the security cameras is on some kind of loop. We’re blind up here. We’ve got no idea where anyone on this base is. I tried breaking the feed but I couldn’t find the origin.” 

“It _is_ a trap,” Storm said quietly. 

Scott nodded. There was a good chance that Leech wouldn’t even be in his assigned room. 

“Iceman, Rogue,” Scott said. “Get back to the Blackbird. Prep her for a quick take off.” 

“Rogue and I officially don’t have – ” 

“You know what to do,” Cyclops said, cutting Iceman off. 

“Right,” Iceman agreed. “On our way to the Blackbird.”

The four senior X-Men walked down the hallway, stopping in front of the last door on the left. Above the large red C8 there was a keypad lock. 

“Ah, to hell with it,” Logan said, slashing through the keypad with his claws before anybody could object. There was the fizzle of circuitry being destroyed and then by some miracle the door opened. He strode inside with Cyclops and Storm close behind him. Nightcrawler remained by the doorway, acting as a sentry.

The room was wide and spacious. Everything was painted an immaculate white from the walls to the furnishings. Logan recognized the technique as a kind of sensory deprivation. The first third of the room seemed to be a kind of testing area, the second third a play area, and the final third a living space. Leech was in the final third of the room, sitting cross-legged on a white bed that was pushed against a white wall, wearing a pair of white pajamas. He watched the four X-Men approach him with an expectant kind of calm. He didn’t seem to be surprised or distressed to see four black-leather clad strangers in his room at all. 

“Hey kid,” Logan said in his gruff manner. “You okay?” 

Leech nodded, eyes wide and too blue.

Before Logan could step closer or say anything else, Scott reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. The silent command froze Wolverine, the tension he could read through Scott’s touch making his senses go on high alert. 

“Something’s not right,” Cyclops whispered so quietly that without the coms only Logan would be able to pick up his words.

Through his peripheral vision, Logan saw Scott’s hand poised on the trigger of his visor. Instantly, Logan understood what Scott meant. They were both so near the kid that even without knowing the effective range of his mutation, they should’ve been depowered. Wolverine couldn’t tell when his healing power switched off and there was nothing he could do about the adamantium lacing his skeleton, but Cyclops would’ve felt if he was depowered and his visor was still lit by the brilliant red of his optic beam. 

In the short space that followed Cyclops’s statement, three things happened at once. Leech lunged forward, forcefully pushing the table in front of his bed towards Cyclops and Wolverine with more strength than his slight form should’ve possessed. Wolverine’s claws were out instantaneously, slashing the table in two even as the red beam from Cyclops’s optic blast fired past him. Leech dodged the beam with a high leap, revealing the ripple of blue-scaled skin as his body arced in the air before landing gracefully on the ground. 

“It’s Mystique,” Cyclops yelled as the shape shifter gave him a sly smile. 

“She’s mine,” Wolverine growled, moving forward to face Mystique. 

Behind them, Cyclops could hear the sounds of a fight outside the room and he knew that more members of the Brotherhood had engaged Nightcrawler. 

“Storm,” he said quickly. “Go help Nightcrawler. Both of you, get back to the Blackbird.” 

Storm nodded, already halfway to the door. 

“Angel,” Cyclops said into his earpiece. “What’s happening outside?” 

“Nothing Cyclops,” came Angel’s voice. “Still all quiet out here.” 

“Wish we were that lucky,” Scott muttered. In a louder voice, he said, “Company’s headed your way. The Brotherhood has joined the party. Cover Storm and Nightcrawler on their way out and get back to the Blackbird.”

“Copy that,” Angel replied. 

In the few seconds it had taken Scott to give orders to both Storm and Angel, Wolverine’s fight with Mystique had escalated. Mystique’s hand-to-hand combat skills made her an even match with Wolverine’s more brawling style, but just when Scott thought Logan had gained the upper hand, a well-placed kick from Mystique sent Wolverine to the floor. Logan was temporarily disoriented, but he was back on his feet in moments following Mystique through a hatch in the ceiling that led to the inner workings of the facility between floors. 

“Wolverine!” Scott called, but Logan was already gone. Cyclops gritted his teeth as he levered himself upwards and followed Wolverine.

The space was narrow in between the two floors and Scott had to crouch on his hands and knees. It was also poorly lit, the shapes and figures coming across as black and dark reds through his visor. The sound of movement caught his attention and a flash of black alerted him to Wolverine’s retreating form. Quickly, Scott moved in Logan’s direction. He couldn’t see Mystique but he had no doubt that Logan was tracking her scent. Both X-Men crawled through the narrow space until Logan disappeared again through another hatch that exited above them. Scott followed. This hatch led to the second sublevel. This time, Logan waited for him, reaching down a hand to help Scott up. 

“Nice of you to wait,” Scott commented, as he grasped Logan’s hand. 

“You’re my back-up, boss,” Logan replied. 

Scott hid a smile as he said brusquely, “Where is she?” 

Logan gestured to a door that was just swinging shut. “Went into that lab,” he answered. 

“Let’s go,” Scott said grimly.

Silently, they approached the lab. Through the glass windows of the double doors, a bright light periodically flashed out into the hallway. Scott took the door on the right, while Logan took the door on the left. They peered inside. Mystique was standing next to Magneto and between them was Leech. The group was near the large device emitting the flashing light. They looked like they were about to walk into it. 

“They’ve activated a portal of some kind,” Cyclops said quietly. 

“I s’ppose the plan is to stop them before they waltz outta here,” Wolverine filled in for him. 

“And protect the boy,” Cyclops added. “We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” he said, tapping his visor. He’d felt his power drain from him as they’d neared the lab. Logan understood what he meant. 

“At least, Magneto can’t pin me against the wall,” Logan said. 

“You go after Mystique,” Cyclops told him. “I’ll handle Magneto.” He paused, reaching behind him to take out the tranquilizer gun that he’d brought in case he would be depowered. “Ready?” 

“Say the word.”

With their usual precision they burst into the room, Cyclops immediately firing a tranquilizer dart that hit Magneto, sending the leader of the Brotherhood slumping into the wall behind him. Mystique grabbed Leech by the arm, yanking him in front of her as though he were a shield. Leech cried out in pain, his eyes wide. 

“Don’t do anything hasty, Wolverine,” she said, as Logan approached her. “You too, Cyclops.” 

“You’re not leaving with him,” Cyclops said. 

“And how are you going to stop me?” Mystique taunted. 

Before Cyclops could reply, Wolverine’s quiet voice stopped him. 

“Cyke.” 

Wolverine had stopped moving and by the position that he was frozen in, Cyclops knew that Magneto had him under control. Cyclops swept his gaze over Magneto’s prone figure. The Master of Magnetism looked unconscious, but it was just a ruse. He’d miscalculated the thick protective material of Magneto’s costume. The tranquilizer dart wouldn’t have been able to penetrate it. He mentally sighed. What he would give at that moment to have his optic blast back. He would’ve used it to knock Magneto out and then refract the beam over the surface of the wall to hit Mystique. Problem solved. But like he told Wolverine before they’d entered the lab, they’d have to do things the old-fashioned way. Which is why before Mystique could react, Cyclops had shifted the tranquilizer gun that had been pointed at her onto Magneto and shot her boss in the exposed area of his neck. Just as quickly, he turned the gun back on Mystique, but instead of shooting her as she probably expected, Cyclops shot the boy.

Leech’s eyes widened in surprise before they rolled back into his head and he slumped against Mystique. The shape shifter was furious and her yellow eyes blazed at Cyclops with anger. Freed from Magneto’s grasp, Wolverine rushed forward. Mystique was forced to release the boy in order to fend off Wolverine’s attack and Cyclops took the opportunity to lunge forward and catch Leech before he fell on the floor. Wolverine’s fight with Mystique was even more vicious than their previous encounter. Cyclops knew things had gotten out of hand when Wolverine ended up slashing through the device powering the still open portal. The red warning lights and the computerized voice ordering them to evacuate confirmed as much. By now, Scott had gathered Leech in his arms and was about to head for the exit only to come face to face with Sabretooth. The hulking mutant may not have had his healing factor, agility and strength, but that didn’t make him a less formidable opponent given that Scott was depowered too. Sabretooth’s smile was bordering on sadistic as he grinned at Cyclops. Scott was already thinking of how he would defend Leech when Mystique’s voice drew Sabretooth’s attention. 

“Over here!” she yelled above the noise of blaring klaxons. “Help me with Erik!” 

Sabretooth growled at Cyclops in frustration before he stormed away. Scott let out a sigh of relief and he was about to head for the exit again when a firm hand on his arm stopped him. 

“This way!” Wolverine told him. 

Trusting Logan’s instincts, Scott followed the other man until he realized that Wolverine was pulling them towards the portal. 

“Wait!” Scott said, immediately alarmed. “We don’t know where that leads!” 

“We ain’t got a choice!” Wolverine shouted back. “We’re not gonna get out of here in time!” 

“We don’t even know if that device still works!” Scott protested, but the sound of rushing wind and a blinding light drowned the rest of his argument out as Wolverine grabbed him and propelled them both through the portal, the sound of an explosion fading in the distance.


	4. Depowered and Unmanned

Scott opened his eyes to bright light and the feel of sunshine warming his face. The air was very clear and fresh. He was lying on the ground, one arm still around Leech who was beside him. Immediately, Scott put two fingers against the boy’s neck, feeling for his pulse. The beat under his fingertips was steady and strong, but Scott knew that Leech would be knocked out for several hours. That tranquilizer had been meant for an adult. While it wasn’t strong enough to hurt Leech permanently, its effects on him would probably last twice or thrice as long. 

Scott sat up slowly. He was a little bruised from the landing, but otherwise was in good shape. On his other side, Logan was beginning to stir and the older mutant eventually sat up as well.

“How do you feel?” Scott asked him. 

“Like I just landed on my head after escaping from an explosion by diving through a portal,” Logan answered without any trace of irony in his voice. “The kid?” he added after a moment. 

“I think he’s okay,” Scott answered. “But he’ll be out of it for a few hours.” 

“That was pretty crazy for you, Summers,” Logan went on, but Scott could hear the admiration in his tone. “Shooting the kid with a tranq like that.” 

“It was the fastest way to protect him,” Scott replied. “And get him out of Mystique’s clutches.” 

“If you say so,” Logan said, but he didn’t sound like he was picking a fight. ‘Don’t s’ppose you know which jungle we’ve been transported to?” he asked, surveying their surroundings. 

Scott pointed at a massive, drooping cream and purple flower vaguely shaped like an ‘S’ that was near them. “ _Aristolochia gigantea_ ,” he stated. “Otherwise known as Dutchman’s Pipe. Only one place in the world where we can find Dutchman’s Pipe in its original form.” 

Logan shot him an inquiring look. 

“The Savage Land.” 

At that answer, the other man began to laugh. “The Savage Land’s a myth, Cyke,” he said. “It ain’t real.”

“Oh, it’s _very_ real,” Scott countered, standing up. “And not as uninhabited as people like to think. Word has it that the military has been doing testing here. Seeing as that base has a portal that connects them directly to the Savage Land, I’d say that assessment is probably accurate.” 

Logan stopped laughing. “Yer serious,” he said. 

“When am I not?” Scott answered. 

Logan shook his head, getting to his feet as well. “The Savage Land?” he repeated. “Why would Magneto come here if the military’s already got this place covered?” 

“Magneto used to have a base here,” Scott explained. “Maybe he still uses it.” 

Logan was eying him thoughtfully. “And what about you, Summers?” he asked. “How come you know so much about this place?” 

“I’ve been here a couple of times,” Scott said. “The Professor has a place here too.” 

“Like Magneto? Another base?” 

“No,” Scott said, a little evasively. “More like a vacation spot.” 

“Now you’ve got to be shitting me.” 

“No,” Scott said, but Logan could read the grin threatening to break out on the other man’s face. “It also makes a good safe house. We’re going to head there now and contact Westchester.” 

“The X-Men have a vacation house in the _Savage Land_?” Logan repeated, making the entire proposition sound absurd. 

“Jean and I sometimes used to come here to get away,” Scott said, and the admission silenced Logan. 

Scott and Jean in the Savage Land. It made Logan feel intrusive somehow, and he turned away from the other man. 

“I’ll take care of the kid,” he said, already bending down to pick Leech up. “Where we headed?” 

“Let me get my bearings,” Scott replied. He looked about them, choosing a sturdy, tall tree. He walked up to it and just before he began the climb, he glanced back at Logan. “A lot of the vegetation here is poisonous,” he warned. “Without your healing factor, you should be careful.” 

Logan nodded, watching as Summers nimbly began the climb up the prehistoric tree.

* * * * *

It didn’t take long for Summers to get a layout of the land, and then they were tromping through the undergrowth to get to the X-Men safe house. Being depowered meant that Logan’s heightened senses were turned off. Despite the vibrancy and color of the Savage Land, the world seemed dull to Logan.

“You gonna keep wearing that visor?” Logan asked about fifteen minutes into their walk. 

“I probably should,” Scott answered. “Just to be safe.” 

Logan nodded. It was what he’d expected Summers would say. 

“What about you?” Scott said, after a moment. 

“What about me?” 

“Without your healing factor,” Scott began. “Adamantium doesn’t belong inside our bodies. How long before you get blood poisoning from it?” 

“Dunno,” Logan admitted. “Never been depowered before. Or if I have, I don’t remember.” 

“Logan,” Scott said, stopping the other man with an arm across his chest. “When you start to feel the effects of blood poisoning – fatigue, shortness of breath, fever – let me know. We need to find out the effective range of Leech. If you get far enough away from him, your healing factor will kick in and it’ll cleanse your system.” 

Logan looked at Summers. “Careful,” he warned him. “You’re starting to sound like you care.” 

“Of course, I care,” Scott retorted, sounding genuinely ruffled. “I care about the well being of all the members of the team.” 

There was a glint in Logan’s eye that made Scott a little wary. For a second, it looked like Logan was going to call him out, but Wolverine didn’t get the opportunity since a loud, thundering sound and the crash of the undergrowth being trampled caught both their attentions. 

“Don’t need my senses ta know that whatever that is, it’s heading our way,” Logan stated. 

Scott knew the other man was right. “Get Leech out of here,” he ordered. “I’ve got this.” 

“You don’t know what _this_ is,” Logan said angrily. “We’re a team, remember?” 

“That’s right,” Scott shot back. “Which is why you’re going to get Leech to safety. When he’s far enough away from me, I’ll have my optic beam back and I will take care of whatever is behind us. I _know_ the Savage Land, Logan.”

Logan was about to argue some more, but they’d run out of time. The creature that had been thundering towards them burst through the foliage and that set them both running, chased by a giant prehistoric boar of some kind. 

“Keep heading straight,” Scott ordered. “I’ll get that boar to follow me.” 

“Summers,” Logan growled, but he did as he was told. 

Scott peeled off to the right, pulling out the tranquilizer gun as he did so. “Hey,” he yelled, looking behind him to catch the boar’s attention and waving his arms in the air. The boar didn’t appear that interested in him until Scott shot him with the last round in the tranquilizer gun. Scott knew the dose wasn’t strong enough to bring down the beast, but maybe it would slow the creature down a little. At any rate, it definitely made the boar mad and it came barreling after Scott, completely disregarding Logan and Leech. 

Scott was thankful for his peak physical condition as he raced through the jungle of the Savage Land, the boar keeping pace behind him. By his estimation, he’d only run about sixty meters before he felt the flare of his optic beam being captured by his visor. Leech’s effective range must’ve been greater than that distance, however, since Logan had also been running in another direction. Knowing that his power was back, Scott turned around and fired a shot at the boar, striking the beast directly in the chest. The boar was staggered by the blast, but didn’t go down. Scott kept running. He caught sight of several large boulders to the right of the rough path ahead of him. Timing it perfectly, he leaped onto the boulders, using them as leverage to flip over the running boar. He landed lightly; his finger already poised on the trigger of his visor and with one strong blast he took the beast out. 

Logan was sitting down on another boulder with Leech bundled in his arms by the time Scott doubled back and found them. 

“Scott Summers, Mighty Hunter,” Logan said dryly, when the team leader came into view. 

Scott would’ve shrugged, but it was a little hard to do so with the large shank draped over his shoulder. “Carniboar for dinner,” he told Logan. 

“Carniboar?” Logan repeated in disbelief as he stood up. 

“That’s what Ka-zar calls them,” Scott replied. “Who am I to argue?”

* * * * *

It took another three hours to trek to the X-Men ‘safe house’ and when they arrived, Logan gave a low, admiring whistle.

“Yeah, I can see why you called it a ‘vacation spot,’” he agreed, as he took in the view. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from lodgings in the Savage Land – a cave structure, maybe? – but what greeted him hadn’t even been within his frame of reference. Logan immediately understood why Scott and Jean had ‘vacationed’ here. 

The X-Men safe house was located high in a prehistoric tree overlooking a picturesque valley. It was an honest-to-god tree house, sturdy and well built. Judging by its size, it was spacious too. 

“I don’t even wanna how you got the furniture up there,” Logan commented. “It _is_ furnished?” he questioned, giving Scott a sideways look. 

“Well furnished,” Scott confirmed. “Two bedrooms.” 

Logan looked away. He hadn’t even considered the sleeping arrangements. Maybe he could take the living room. Or keep watch. All night. Outside. 

“Hey,” Scott said. 

Before Logan realized it, Summers had reached out and placed his palm against Logan’s forehead. 

“You’re slightly feverish,” Scott observed. “It’s the effect of the blood poisoning. Let me take Leech up. Stay down here for awhile and let your healing factor take care of this.” 

They did an exchange before Scott headed up. Scott gave Logan the flank of carniboar and Logan handed over the still unconscious Leech. Logan watched as Summers began the climb up the winding staircase that had been constructed around the trunk of the tree. It was a good method to judge the effective distance of Leech’s mutation, but Summers must already have had some idea of that since he’d distracted the carniboar. Logan estimated that the tree house was at least eighty meters up. When Summers disappeared into the house, Logan popped a claw. The skin surrounding the adamantium healed immediately letting him know that his healing factor was working again. Satisfied, Logan settled down with the flank of carniboar and began to skin it. 

By the time Scott came back down to check on Logan, the carniboar was roasting over a fire. 

“Wolverine, Master Chef,” Scott said with a half smile as he joined Logan on the log that Logan had turned into a makeshift bench. 

Logan gave him a sideways look. “I’m a fan of Bobby Flay myself,” he returned. “Man’s turned barbecuing into an art form.” 

Scott laughed, surprised by the comment and Logan realized how much he’d missed the sound. It was hard to get Summers to lower his guard, but Scott seemed relaxed to him. He could read it in Summers’ body language, he detected it in his scent – always fresh, always clean and uniquely Scott. It seemed strange that Summers would be at ease after a semi-botched mission and the fact that they were now trapped in the Savage Land, but maybe being away from the mansion and civilization in general had its perks. 

“How’s the kid?” Logan asked. He could practically see Summers transform into Cyclops the moment Logan shifted their discussion onto mission concerns. 

“Still unconscious,” Scott answered. “I estimate he’s got about an hour left before the tranquilizer wears off. One of us should be there when he wakes up,” he added. “I don’t want him to freak out in a strange environment.” 

“Then _you_ ought to be there when he wakes up,” Logan supplied. 

Scott looked at him thoughtfully. “Whether you’ll admit it or not,” he said slowly. “You’re actually pretty good with kids.” 

Logan scoffed but he wouldn’t meet Scott’s gaze, focusing instead on turning the roasting carniboar. 

“It’s how I knew you’d be back,” Scott continued softly, now looking at the fire himself. 

Logan could feel the hairs at the back of his neck prickle at Scott’s words. Summers was indirectly addressing their deal and it was triggering the fight or flight response in him. He tapped down on that response. 

“You care about the kids,” Scott went on. “About the school. No matter what happens between us on a personal level, you’ve bought into the Professor’s dream. You’re a true X-Man.” 

Logan could feel his face burning from the embarrassment. He couldn't believe that Summers was being so bold. They _never_ talked about stuff like this. Unwilling to address the issue, he said instead, “What about Magneto and his cronies? You think they survived that blast?” 

Scott exhaled, and Logan felt the tension that had been building between them dissipate. “It’s tough to say,” he eventually said. “They didn’t follow us through the portal, but it’s hard to see how else they could’ve got out of the facility in time.” 

“They could’ve,” Logan countered. “Followed us through the portal,” he clarified. “That machine was already unstable. If they followed us through, it doesn’t necessarily mean they would’ve landed in the exact same spot. The Savage Land’s a big place.”

Summers nodded, giving the idea some thought. 

“Does Magneto know about the X-Men safe house?” Logan questioned. 

“I’m not sure,” Scott admitted. “He probably suspects that we have one here but since it was put up _after_ Magneto made his headquarters, he may not know where the safe house is. But I do know about the Brotherhood’s old HQ here.” 

“Yeah? How’s that?” 

“The Professor helped Magneto build it as a kind of mutant safe haven.” 

A silence fell between them as they let the implications of Scott’s statement sink in. 

“Charles and Magneto have a real complicated relationship,” Logan said at last. “Friends, rivals, adversaries.” 

“Complicated,” Scott agreed, neither of them willing to admit that their own relationship had shades of Charles and Magneto’s complicated history. 

Scott cleared his throat. “I’ve contacted the Professor. We keep a sat phone here,” he explained. “For emergencies.” 

“Like E.T. ya just phoned home?” Logan said with a half smile.

“That’s how it works,” Scott replied. “Charles told us to sit tight. The Blackbird will be here first thing in the morning.” 

“One night in the Savage Land,” Logan mused. “Been in worse places.” 

“You’ll even get to sleep in a proper bed,” Scott said, making Logan wonder if there was a double entendre to be found there. As usual, Summers didn’t give anything away. He stood up. “I better go check on Leech.” 

“Hey,” Logan said, suddenly reaching out and grasping Summers’ arm before the other man could walk away. Scott glanced down at him. “You want me to bring dinner up or are we doing the whole campfire thing down here? Is it safe to do the campfire thing?” he added as an afterthought. 

“Safe enough,” Scott assured him. “Why don’t we let Leech decide where to eat?” 

“The first thing you gotta do, Cyke, is find out that kid’s name.” 

“Will do,” Summers agreed.

* * * * *

Leech was a real trooper and Logan liked him straight away. The kid was completely unfazed about his potential double-kidnapping (“You two are much nicer than the blue woman and the old guy,” Leech had said. “Well, that’s a relief,” Logan had replied); by the testing he’d undergone at Worthington Industries (“They didn’t hurt me, and they gave me lots of toys”); by the fact that he’d been handed over to the military less than twelve hours ago (“They were a little scary,”), and was now enjoying prehistoric carniboar over a campfire in the mythic Savage Land. Logan couldn’t name many _adults_ who would’ve taken that particular series of events in stride. It rather reminded him of Summers’ lunatic sort of calm in the face of all kinds of adversity. Scott never panicked and it was a trait that Logan admired in the other man though he’d probably never admit it, and certainly not to Cyclops.

It turned out that Leech’s real name was Jimmy, and Jimmy took an instant liking to Cyclops. Logan could tell. Perhaps it was because there was something about Scott that put kids at ease. That wasn’t surprising considering how long Summers had been working with kids – practically since he was a kid himself. Logan had heard stories from Hank and Storm about how socially awkward Scott had been growing up (Summers still had shades of that social awkwardness. He wasn’t fond of purely social gatherings, but then again neither was Logan), but once he’d accepted his role as the field leader of the X-Men, his natural leadership ability had come to the fore. Now Summers was professionalism, competence and confidence personified – at least, whenever it came to the team, training and missions. He radiated the kind of authority that kids trusted rather than feared, and Jimmy was no exception.

Jimmy decided that being in the fabled Savage Land merited dinner outdoors. Logan thought most kids would be afraid of the darkness and the menacing trees and other strange foliage, but Jimmy was all wide-eyed wonder. Logan had heard two sets of footsteps descending the staircase from the tree house and known that dinner would be outside. He’d counted their steps and picked up on their voices before his senses faded and then he was depowered once more. 

“So, you’re taking me to your school?” Jimmy was asking Cyclops. 

“Yes,” Scott answered. 

“What’s it called?” 

“Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It’s named after the school’s founder and headmaster, Professor Charles Xavier,” Scott explained. 

“And he’s a mutant too?” 

Scott laughed lightly. “A very powerful mutant,” he said. “But he uses his powers for good, to help our kind as well as humans. He believes we can all live together peacefully.” 

Scott glanced at Logan then, a faint smile on his face and it took all of Logan’s willpower to hold the other man’s gaze. There was a time not too long ago when he would’ve scoffed at the idea, would’ve laughed outright in Scott’s face and called them all a bunch of dreamers. But Scott was right. He _had_ bought into the Professor’s dream, and if the Professor could recruit a wayward son of a bitch like him . . . well, maybe there was hope for mutantkind after all.

Jimmy yawned rather loudly then, quickly covering his mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said. 

“No need to be,” Scott assured him. “You must be tired. Remember that room you woke up in? That’s yours.” 

“What about you two?” Jimmy asked. 

Scott briefly glanced at Logan again before saying, “Don’t worry about us. We’ll figure something out.” 

Jimmy still looked a little hesitant, but he stood up, stretching as he did so. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. Logan,” he said. “You got some mean barbecue skills there.” 

“Bobby Flay would be proud,” Scott couldn’t help but tease. 

Logan held back a growl, even as the compliments washed over him. “No problem, kid,” he replied. “And it’s just Logan.” 

“Logan,” Jimmy repeated with a smile. The name rolled off his tongue naturally. 

“You need some company going up?” Scott asked, as Jimmy headed towards the winding staircase leading up to the tree house. 

“No, I’m fine,” Jimmy called back. “You showed me where everything was.” 

“Okay,” Scott said. “We’ll join you upstairs in a little while.”

When Logan was certain that Jimmy was well out of hearing range, he said, “I should stay down here. Keep watch.” 

Scott looked vaguely amused. Logan could tell by the slight upturn of his lips. “You don’t have to,” he said. “In fact, you shouldn’t. Stay down here,” he clarified. “When it gets later it’s not safe. In the Savage Land, higher ground is always the safest.” 

Logan had no response to that. After a while, Scott spoke again. 

“If you’re not comfortable sharing a bed with me, we could toss a coin to decide who sleeps outside,” he suggested. “In the living area.” 

“You got a sofa there?” Logan said, only half-jokingly. 

“We do,” Scott deadpanned back. 

“Y’know, Summers,” Logan said, standing up as well. “I do have some self-restraint. Just ‘cos we’re sharing a bed don’t mean I’m gonna jump you.” 

“And here I thought you’d lost all interest,” Scott said, too offhandedly for Logan’s liking. 

Logan looked down at the younger man, and he couldn’t help appreciating the warm glow that sharpened Scott’s chiseled features in the firelight. He’d realized a while back that he’d never lose interest in Scott. He’d always have Cyclops’ back, whether the other man wanted him to or not. 

“I’m just full of surprises,” he snarked back, affecting a mildly lascivious and simultaneously challenging tone. 

But Scott’s expression remained serious as he studied Logan quietly. “Yes, you are,” he murmured at last, almost to himself.

* * * * *

Despite Logan’s fighting words, he had to muster quite a bit of courage before he entered the larger of the two bedrooms where Scott had already retired for the night. He’d paced the perimeter of the tree house back and forth, appreciative of the balcony that wove along the structure. What he would’ve given for a cigar. Smoking would’ve calmed his nerves before having to face Cyclops again.

When Logan pushed open the door to the bedroom, Scott was already in bed. He was lying on his back, hands clasped on his chest, occupying only half the bed. The other half was clearly meant for him. For a split second Logan thought of going out again. Suddenly, braving a night outdoors in the Savage Land didn’t seem like such a terrifying prospect compared to sharing a bed with Scott Summers. There was also the bamboo couch. But that thought only lasted a split second. Instead, he unzipped his uniform as he strode towards the bed. He stripped off the black leather easily enough, kicked off his boots in the process and pulled back the covers, sliding in wearing only his boxers. 

Summers didn’t stir, didn’t even look in Logan’s direction as the other man got into bed. He was still wearing his visor even though the familiar red light wasn’t glowing. Jimmy’s room was beside theirs and the boy was certainly near enough to deactivate their powers. Summers didn’t need his visor but Logan knew that he would wear it as a precaution. Summers was prepared like that. As for Logan, he’d felt the heaviness of his adamantium skeleton weighing him down as he’d neared the tree house. Being depowered made him feel like an old man. It made him _move_ like an old man. Summers certainly wasn’t old. He was practically a kid compared to Logan but he handled the whole depowering thing like an old hand. It made Logan wonder when, or how often, Summers had been depowered in the past. Summers could still surprise him, and the maturity and professionalism that he’d displayed throughout their misadventure only served to highlight his leadership skills. But what had surprised Logan most of all was that completely unexpected firelight kiss. He imagined he could still feel the pressure of Summers’ lips against his own, of the slide of tongue against his. He’d thought that their conversation by the fire was over, especially when Summers had stood up as well. But then Scott had crossed their small campsite and before Logan had even realized what was happening, the Boy Scout had pulled him down for a kiss. Logan had gone with it, swept up in the sensation and heat of the moment. 

“Why’d you do it?” he asked aloud. 

“The kiss?” Scott answered. At Logan’s silence, he continued. “I felt like it,” he said simply. 

“Way to fuck with someone’s mind, Cyke,” Logan muttered. “Spontaneity ain’t your thing,” he added. 

“Who said it was spontaneous?” 

Logan almost smiled to himself. He’d half-anticipated that answer. Everything with Summers was carefully planned. Even a kiss would be strategic. Beside him, he could feel Scott shift so that he was lying on his side, facing Logan. 

“I’ve thought a lot about the night you ended the deal,” Scott began and Logan felt his hackles rise for the second time that night. “And I think . . . I think I may have read things incorrectly.” 

Even as Logan marveled at the idea that Summers would admit to being wrong, he felt unbearably tense at the thought that Scott _would_ interpret the situation correctly. Maybe it would just be easier for Scott to get things wrong. 

“I thought it was jealousy that provoked you,” Scott said slowly. “And for the record, I still think there may have been a bit of jealousy there,” he added, unable to help himself with the teasing jab. 

Logan let it slide, his brow creasing in anticipation of Summers’ next words. 

“But later I thought, ‘What if it was something else? What could that something be?’” 

Scott paused and Logan could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so vulnerable, so exposed. The Savage Land seemed a lot less terrifying than what Summers would say next. 

“It was pretty clear that the deal wasn’t satisfying you anymore,” Scott ventured. “But that meant something must’ve changed. Sure, Warren had entered the picture, but even having him around didn’t actually change things between us, didn’t change the deal. At least, not at first. Something else must’ve happened.” 

Another pause. Logan was so tense that he was ready to leap out of the bed, his fight or flight response on the verge of taking over. He wondered if Summers could see his tension through those dark lenses. He wondered if Summers could see anything at all. 

“I asked myself, ‘What could Logan be dissatisfied about?’” Scott continued. “It couldn’t be the sex. I mean, there were never any complaints there.” 

Logan could hear the amusement in Summers’ tone and his tension eased a fraction. It was true. Neither of them could ever have complained about the sex. 

“It wasn’t the missions either,” Scott went on. “And if it wasn’t the sex and it wasn’t the missions, then it had to be the deal itself.” 

Logan’s tension returned full force. Summers was so close now. 

“What about the deal?” Scott said thoughtfully, his voice dropping as though he were speaking to himself but his words rang like crystal to Logan. “If it wasn’t boredom . . . “ Scott trailed off and Logan knew Scott didn’t need optic blasts for him to feel the intensity of Cyclops’ gaze. 

“It seemed inconceivable at first,” Scott said carefully. “But then I thought, ‘What if Logan wanted more?’” 

Logan exhaled a long slow breath, one that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There. Scott had said it, had worked it all out without an ounce of help from him. The implications of Summers’ words hung heavy in the air between them. Scott was waiting. It was up to Logan to confirm or deny it. Without turning his head, Logan answered. 

“Can you give more?” 

It was Scott’s turn to suck in his breath, short and sharp, and Logan realized that the other man hadn’t expected that answer, or perhaps any sort of answer much less a confirmation, from him. Unlike him, Scott didn’t reply straight away. The silence stretched between them, but strangely, Logan didn’t feel the tension he had experienced while listening to Scott figure things out. He’d fought so hard to keep his emotions in check, to not reveal how much Summers had affected him. Now that it was all out in the open, he didn’t think he had anything left to actually hear Summers’ response. The response mattered all right, but Logan was so emotionally and physically drained from the botched mission, the detour into the Savage Land and Jimmy’s effects on him that he felt numb. Whatever Scott had to say, he’d deal with it later. 

“I don’t know,” Scott said after a long while. “After . . . Jean . . .” He swallowed to disguise the difficulty in saying her name, but Logan saw right through it. “I don’t know if I have much left to give.” 

Logan didn’t react. Couldn’t react. It was an honest answer and he had to give Scott credit for that. He felt the bed dip as Scott moved nearer. Through his peripheral vision, he saw that Summers was still on his side, and watched as though from another body as Scott reached out and placed his hand on Logan’s chest. 

“That week you took off,” Scott said quietly. “I missed you. That says something, doesn’t it?” 

Logan’s breathing had evened out. He felt the weight of Scott’s hand over his heart as though the touch were burning through him. Summers had just admitted to missing him. It was something, wasn’t it? 

“I guess,” he muttered. What he really wanted to say was, ‘I missed you too.’ Because the truth was no matter how many brawls he’d gotten into, how much he’d drunk and how many people he’d fucked, Summers was all he could think of at the end of every day he’d been away. 

Scott shifted even closer, eventually straddling Logan’s waist as he leaned down and placed a hand on either side of Logan’s head. “When we get back to Westchester, we should . . .” he paused. 

They could both guess that Scott had been about to say the word ‘talk,’ but the idea sounded absurd to both of them. Neither of them were the caring or sharing type. That’s precisely why the deal had been struck in the first place. 

Instead, Scott shook his head as if to clear it. “We’ll figure something out,” he said, a tone of finality in his voice. “Logan? I’m going to kiss you now.” 

Logan wondered for a moment why Scott was even bothering to tell him his intentions. Did the kid really think Logan would refuse him? That Logan needed some sort of warning? 

“Ya don’t have to make an announcement about it,” he said a little snidely and teasingly at the same time. 

Summers responded with a smile and when he bent down, Logan reached up, his broad arms sliding around Scott’s back to hold him in place. There was nothing chaste or teasing about this kiss. Summers tasted sweet, sweeter than he remembered from their first kiss all those months ago and it was good. It was so, so good. Logan rolled his hips upward and he was pleased when Scott groaned into his mouth. 

“Now?” Scott asked, temporarily breaking their kiss. 

“You’re the one who started this,” Logan shot back. 

“And you’re the one who said you could show self-restraint.” 

“Not when you’re naked and on top of me,” Logan countered. 

Scott laughed softly, but he was also shifting, freeing Logan’s cock from his boxers and pulling the offending material out of the way. “Jimmy’s next door,” he reminded Logan as he draped himself over Logan’s body again. 

“Then you’ll have to be quiet,” Logan retorted before placing his hand at the back of Scott’s neck and bringing him in for another kiss. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that he was allowed to kiss Summers now. That _kissing_ was allowed. It struck him as a monumental leap forward, even though he couldn’t entirely process the implications of it. He was too distracted by Summers’ arousal, by Scott’s talented tongue, by the lean but strong body that moved against his. Dimly, he was aware that the deal was no longer on, that he wasn’t entitled to call the shots tonight, that he would be perfectly willing to submit to whatever Scott asked. 

Aw, hell. He was totally whipped. 

It was the creak of the door opening and the sound of a shy and embarrassed voice that stopped things from going any further. 

“Mr. Summers?” 

“Jimmy?” Scott said, immediately alert. “What’s wrong?” He sat up and Logan joined him, leaning against the headboard. 

“I heard a noise outside.” 

Scott had been about to answer, but Logan put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I’ll check it out,” he told the other man. 

“There are a lot of strange noises in the Savage Land,” Scott said to him very quietly, so that Jimmy wouldn’t hear. 

“That’s why I should check it out,” Logan replied. “To put the kid’s mind at ease.” 

In the moonlight that filtered into their room, Logan could read Scott’s expression. It was soft and fond, and Logan’s heart swelled with the sudden possibilities that lay before them. He’d never felt more certain that everything was going to be all right. Impulsively, and not caring that they had an audience, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Scott’s lips. 

“Wait here,” he instructed. 

“Now look who’s giving orders,” Scott returned, but there was only amusement in his tone. 

Logan began to put on his discarded uniform and although he hadn’t turned around, he knew that Summers was doing the same. Leech was still silhouetted in the doorway and Logan patted him once on the head as he passed by the kid. 

“Stay with Cyclops,” he told him. 

Jimmy nodded. 

The minute Logan stepped out onto the balcony, he didn’t need his hyper-senses to know that something was wrong. The rhythmic patter that only came from military footsteps told him that figures were moving up the curved staircase. Someone had managed to find them and there was no time to figure out whom. He rushed back inside, just in time to see Cyclops and Leech exiting the bedroom.

“We got company,” he informed them. “Don’t suppose this tree house of yours has got some kind of secret exit?” 

“This way,” Scott said, grabbing Jimmy’s hand. He stopped when he realized that Logan wasn’t following them. “Logan!” he said, sharply. 

“Take the kid, Cyclops,” Logan said sternly. “I’ll buy you two some time. There’s too many of them.” 

“Logan – ” Scott started to protest but the other man cut him off. 

“I’ll find you, Scott,” he said. “I’ll always find you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies if you received a notification that this fic was recently updated. I had a problem with this fic being placed in a collection and set as 'unrevealed.' In order to take it out of the collection, the archive had to 're-post' it. There's no update. I'm really sorry. But don't give up hope. I'm halfway through the next chapter. The fic hasn't been abandoned. It will _never_ be abandoned.

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel and Fox. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


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